


Confidence Games

by Chizwiffle



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chizwiffle/pseuds/Chizwiffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home.  When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Stand on the Edge with Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story originally started as two prompts on the LJ community [Hobbit_Kink](hobbit_kink.livejournal.com). It has quickly spiraled into a rather long work, but the original prompts were: _During their escape from the wharg-riders, Fili takes an arrow for Thorin._ and _Fili actually does get injured during the thunder battle and Kili and Thorin are still looking after him when the cave floor opens. The Goblins take notice of Fili's injury and his family's protectiveness._  
> 

Bilbo, as most Hobbits would be in the wider world, preferred to remain unnoticed. Indeed, as the company's burglar this was his job. Running away from an orc pack on whargs seemed to him a perfectly legitimate reason to remain unnoticed and the best time to slip away. Now hiding as all fourteen of their company were, pressed against a rock, Belladonna's son didn't stop to think that all these thoughts racing through his mind were anything less than completely logical and altogether rational. The rest of the company stood silent, waiting for a sign from Thorin to move, but they could all hear the low growls of the wharg just above them on the heights. A slow swish of a blade came from above and he had just enough time to glance to the side, catching the nod from Thorin.

The master of their company had not nodded to him; Bilbo only had to detach his head from the wall for a split second to see Kili on the other side of their leader. Surely he felt much as Bilbo did, because at Thorin's nod, his lips pursed and he glanced down to the bow in his hand, as though running through the options in his mind. But even that seemed a split second to Bilbo. Drawing an arrow and nocking it, Kili pushed off the wall and into view of the orc above.

Bilbo did not like the accompanying snarl, could see nothing so he shut his eyes for a split moment, heard the zing of an arrow, the wounded whine of the orc and the wharg and then the deep tumble as both fell from above into the grass just to his right. Kili fired another arrow before the orc could blow his horn; Dwalin and Bifur sprang forwards, dispatching the orc and wharg respectively. Bilbo kept his back against the wall, more than ready to melt straight into the stone as their deed echoed through the Lonelands.

And then they were running; wherever Radagast had gone, the wizard could no longer help deter the orcs of the hunting party from their prey.

"We're surrounded!" Fili called back to Thorin, both of his blades out, standing nearly exactly as Thorin stood. Thorin's only response was one word.

"Kili!"

But Fili's brother was already letting arrows fly as fast as he could, the quiver at his back beginning to run low. Gandalf had disappeared, the other dwarves were muttering in consternation as they pulled together in a semicircle with another stone to their back, Thorin's deep bass echoing as he shouted, "prepare for battle!" They didn't need to hide anymore; they were prey and they'd been cornered.

"This way, you fools!" Bilbo needed no second bidding as Gandalf popped up between the rock that Bilbo now realized was actually two, following him down as one by one the others came as well at Thorin's command. Dwalin, Balin, Dori were at his side a moment later, before he could pick himself up. Above them, they could see Thorin standing on the smaller rock that guarded this hidden cave of sorts, blade gleaming in the sunlight. They could see it flash, Thorin's foot planted firmly on the rock as he twisted to dispatch an orc that came too close. Blood washed down the blade and into the grooves of the Elvish runes.

The other dwarves were picking themselves up, pulling back so the remainder of their company to slip through and have space to tumble to the floor as they all had. Bilbo looked back up to the sunlight, breath caught in his throat; Bifur, Nori, Oin, Gloin...8, 9, 10...

"Fili!" He could just barely see Thorin's blade flash as he caught the younger dwarf's attention, though Bilbo felt he didn't need to guess at what currently occupied Fili's attention. The blonde dwarf appeared at the top of the rock, twin blades flashing. Bilbo could just barely see Fili from his view, only half of Thorin, but Fili stopped, gaze focused to the east behind the King.

"Thorin!" The word of warning came both too early and too late; an arrow from behind - the direction Fili had just come from - slammed into the younger dwarf, knocking him off balance. He tumbled into the cave at Thorin's cry for him; blades clattering against the smooth stone, the shaft of the arrow breaking off during his fall.

Almost immediately the dwarves in the cave were pushing forwards, but Bilbo managed to dash forwards on soundless hobbit feet, standing at Fili's side just as Bofur and Gloin knelt next to their comrade.

"Easy, lad," Bofur and Gloin caught a grip on his clothing and quickly tugged him backwards, not a moment too soon, as Kili and finally Thorin slid down into the cave. Somewhere up above a strange horn sounded, but none focused on it, least of all Kili or Thorin.

"Fili?!" Kili looked shocked to see Bofur and Gloin helping his older brother into a seated position, but the look on Thorin's face told him that something had happened.

"I'm alright, Kili," the older of the two, somewhat breathlessly, replied. "It's just a poorly-aimed arrow, that's all."

"Poorly-aimed then it couldn't have been one of mine." Kili didn't miss a beat, pushing through past Bilbo to be at his brother's side, taking Gloin's place and helping Fili all the way back to his feet.

"Shaft snapped off, tip's still in though, looks deep." Bofur, on Fili's other side, carefully inspected the wound and two inches of crudely carved wood sticking out of Fili's right shoulder as Thorin picked up the shaft that had broken off.

"Best to leave it where it is," Oin called, a touch more loudly, especially in the echo of the small cave. He pushed through to get a better look, a quick look. "Comes out now and we'll have a time stopping the bleeding."

"Can you stand it just a bit longer, lad?" Bofur asked, the kindness in the toy-maker's voice seemingly perfect in that moment. Behind them something heavy thudded into the cave and they whirled about, blades drawn, but the orc was already dead. Thorin pulled out the arrow from its throat, inspected it, then threw it away in disgust, cursing out, "elves. Fili."

Something must have been said, or left unsaid, because Bilbo watched Fili look carefully towards the older dwarf and nod. "I'm alright." Thorin's lips pursed rather tightly at the response and he studied the younger dwarf for a moment, but Gandalf moving at his side diverted his attention. Bilbo didn't think he would ever find out what they'd said to each other in that moment without words.

"I dinnae know where the pathway leads. Do we follow it?" Dwalin's heavily accented voice boomed back to them where he stood in a shaft of sunlight at the back of the cave.

"Follow it, of course!" Bofur's response seemed that much more pressing as he stood next to Fili, knowing that however 'alright' the lad said he was, he still had an arrow in his shoulder. Kili seemed to think the same thing and he stayed close to his brother's side. Thorin stepped forwards long enough to hand Fili his blades silently, and with a grimace, the older of the brothers slid them into the cross-back double scabbard, one blade coming to rest with the hilt just above the arrow. Bilbo noted the grimace that found its way onto Kili's face in the same moment as his brother's had.

They filed through the gap in the rocks one at a time, and just in front of him, Kili was forced to move behind his brother rather than next to him as the path became too narrow. Thorin and Gandalf brought up the rear and Bilbo could hear them speaking quietly, quickly to each other. He doubted it to be a conversation he should hear, but one glance behind told him that both Thorin and Gandalf were keeping a close eye on the older of their two scouts.

Fili and Kili seemed as silent as Gandalf and Thorin seemed to be quietly arguing over something. The two younger dwarves stood side by side where they could, shoulders touching, and occasionally a glance from Kili to his brother seemed to be all that they both needed. Steadily the tunnel widened and brightened until all at once it ended, leaving the company on a ledge overlooking the most beautiful city to exist above-ground. Fili's shoulders straightened as he stood next to his brother, right arm now crossed across his chest to keep from jostling the wound.

_Imladris.  
Rivendell._

"You've brought us here purposefully," came Thorin's response, that Bilbo could hear behind him. Thorin, lips pressed together as they ever seemed to be- was not pleased in the slightest. His voice contained the dark edge of prejudice that he harbored always for the race of Elves. "Gandalf, they will attempt to stop us-"

"Of course they will. But we need food, rest, answers-" Gandalf's gaze flicked towards Fili, "-and healing. Whatever ill will you might have, we will find safety here for as much time as we may need. Remember that, Master Dwarf, for we will arrive as welcomed guests. Do nothing that will reverse such good will."

If Thorin had wanted to continue arguing, the glance towards Fili seemed to halt him and instead he kept his lips pressed tightly together, but ultimately motioned for the company to follow.

As suspicious as dwarves were, they couldn't help themselves as they entered the Last Homely House of Elrond, allowing Gandalf to do the talking. Most of what was said they could not understand, but some things needed no translation. Bilbo noticed out of the corner of his eye - as Gandalf spoke with the elf who had come to greet them - that Fili subtly shifted enough to lean against his brother. Outwardly the movement so small few might have noticed; they remained shoulder to shoulder, but Kili's stance shifted almost imperceptibly, bearing more of his brother's weight, hands half-clenched at his sides.

The same horn they'd heard out on the Lonelands sounded again, accompanied by hoof-beats that took them all by surprise.

"Close ranks!" Thorin's blade, immediately unsheathed, gleamed in the sunlight as he pushed towards Fili and Kili, the other dwarves immediately closing around their scouts. Bofur's hand shot out to grasp Bilbo's collar, tugging him into their circle just as the Elven war party cantered into the courtyard, circling about and eyeing the newcomers who had their blades drawn. Fili's jaw clenched through all the jostling and stuck in the center as they were, he and his brother had no room to draw their blades, much less Kili's bow, but his left hand strayed to the blade stowed away in his gauntlet, half-unsheathed.

Finally the hunting party stopped and Gandalf bowed courteously, extending his arms.

"Lord Elrond, mellon nin."

Introductions were not made until well after the two had had a conversation in Elvish, only then did Elrond turn to the company, not that Thorin made his introduction anything but civil, and even that could be argued. But something held his tongue, something kept his fingers clenched tightly around his blade, and something kept his body completely wound, as though to stop himself. Elrond studied him silently, studied the rest of the company, before he held out his arms much as Gandalf had.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Thorin Oakenshield and company. Whether you wish food, rest-" his gaze slid past Thorin and into the center of the group, "-or healing, you shall not be in want of anything. Please, come."

Only then did the dwarves slowly sheath their blades, following Thorin across the causeway and further into Rivendell. Fili couldn't have been more relieved when their close formation finally loosened and he could breathe without the almost sure chance that someone would jostle his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Kili whispered, not wishing to draw attention. Fili shot his brother a sideways glance, wrinkled his nose in a half-smirk.

"I have an arrow in my shoulder. It's not the most pleasant of experiences, no. But I'll live." 

Certainly he preferred to have it taken care of sooner, rather than later, however.


	2. And For All the Years You Borrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home. If Kili isn't careful, he could lose his brother for good. But if Fili isn't careful, he might lose something far worse: the brother he knew. When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.

"I will not have an elf coming so near any member of this company; I will not, Gandalf."

"Save me from your obstinacy, Thorin Oakenshield. Lord Elrond is a healer, one of the most renowned in Middle Earth!"

"He is still an elf; he knows nothing of our ways. Oin is more than capable; I will not have an elf healing my sister-son."

Bilbo's ears quirked up and he turned in the direction of Gandalf and Thorin, easily hearing their whispered argument near the door to the room that had become to company's camp for the night.

"Sister-son?"

"Mm." Kili, sitting next to the luxurious lounge that had become his brother's healing bed, gazed up at Thorin's back, then shared a glance with his brother, who had peeked one eye open to do so. Fili, resting on his stomach, face turned outwards and blonde braids falling over the edge of the lounge, chuckled quietly, sounding more sleepy than injured.

"Alright, easy now, laddie," Oin spoke up before Bilbo could ask another question, letting his earpiece fall to hang about his neck and leaning down to place a hand on Fili's shoulder. If he'd heard the argument between Gandalf and Thorin, he made no notion and went about his business as healer of the company. "We'll have to take the arrow out first. Much worse if we wait."

Fili seemed to have expected this, because he closed his eyes, nodded.

"Make it quick, Oin." Kili straightened in his spot on the floor next to his brother's bed, resting his forearm on the arm of the lounge, dark eyes focused silently on the older dwarf. Oin merely nodded, a steadying hand coming to rest right between Fili's shoulder-blades. He grasped the broken shaft and jerked the arrow out with a squelching pop, a faint jolt rocking Fili's body as the arrowhead appeared, black and bloody, though he only grimaced in pain, forcing the rest down. Bilbo noted the same grimace once again wound it's way onto Kili's face in almost an exact mirror image.

"Kili."

Blood had immediately spurted up from the wound, the arrow no longer plugging it, and Oin and Kili - the younger springing up at the direction - worked quickly to divest Fili of his outer garments, each one now adorned with the same puncture hole.

"Only you would make this difficult, khâzash," Kili muttered to his brother, trying to undress his torso as quickly and painlessly as possible. He pulled Fili's small-clothes off his arms and down his waist just far enough to reveal his older brother's back, the blood quickly pooling in the hollow between Fili's shoulder-blades and traveling down his spine.

"It is well that you played with enough dolls when you were younger then, to give you the proper amount of practice." Fili, tired and hurt as he was, still didn't miss a beat, seeing his brother pause, dark gaze focused on the wound. Oin steadily worked to clean and dress the wound as Kili simply made a face at his brother, successfully distracted, and sat back down, though this time using the arm and leg of the lounge as his backrest. From this position, he was at the same height as his brother, their heads closer than if they'd been sitting next to each other. Kili gripped his brother's clothes and pulled the pile closer, searching through them. He seemed to have more trouble finding the right garment than he did plucking his brother's pipe out.

Filling it with leaves from his own pouch, he punched the leaves into the bowl with one finger, gaze focused on the task.

"Your stash of dolls were always perfect for target practice."

A faint smile touched Fili's lips from his brother's quip, followed by the softest of sighs as Oin administered a paste to the newly cleaned wound and began dressing it, wrapping the gauze supplied by the elves around Fili's shoulder and chest, securing it in place.

Kili set his brother's pipe down just long enough to help Fili back into his small-clothes, tunic, and jerkin, but the night being so warm in the valley he did not need the heavier coat.

"Keep that arm still, lad," Oin spoke up, patting Fili's wrist after he'd secured a final bandage into a sling. "The pain should ease with the salve, but if it does not, tell me."

Fili bowed his head and tugged on one braid. "Dolzekh Menu, Oin."

The older dwarf nodded and departed and as he moved across the room, Fili slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, careful not to jostle anything, receiving no admonishment from his brother because Kili had crossed the few feet to the center of the room a moment earlier with their pipes, lighting both from the fire that most of the others in the company now sat around. He didn't look completely pleased with Fili when he turned around to realize his brother had shifted, but he said nothing, instead offering Fili his pipe as he sat next to his brother.

"All bandaged up then?" Ori offered Fili a smile, looking rather relieved, before he went back to pouring over one of the leather-bound pages in his lap.

A shadow crossed in front of them and both brothers looked up to find Thorin standing before them, studying Fili with the faintest of frowns creasing his lips down. Finally he placed a hand on his sister-son's uninjured shoulder, squeezing lightly. Looking over towards the door, Bilbo realized that Gandalf had already disappeared, though wherever the wizard went, usually none of the company knew.

"Rest, Fili. I will return."

"I'm sorry, but do you mean to say he is, is he your uncle?" Bilbo asked after Thorin strode silently from the room, leaving Fili and Kili to join the others in conversation. The hobbit had his back pressed to one of the railings keeping any from taking a tumble down into the valley, though with his small stature he could almost squeeze between them. Knees up, hands tucked between them, he stayed just close enough to the fire to enjoy the warmth, but also sat closest to the two brothers.

Fili took a long drag of his pipe, glad to have the pipeweed work it's own magic on his injured body.

"Brother to our mother, yes, he is our uncle." Kili shared a shining, sideways glance with his brother, taking a drag of his own pipe, much more relaxed now that Fili seemed to be so.

"He has been all our lives."

"I'm not sure how that could change either."

Bilbo, for a moment, could say nothing, staring open-mouthed towards the two brothers sitting exactly the same way on the lounge before him. His back thumped against the railings and Bofur looked over from where he was roasting sausages over the fire, that same twinkle he always had visible in the tinker's eye.

"Alright there, Laddie?"

"Don't think he knew just who they were." Nori very rarely spoke and even now his voice barely drifted over the crackling of the fire. He set his pipe back between his lips, inhaling thoughtfully.

"Ye've got the heirs of Durin here, Master Hobbit." Compared to Nori's comment, Gloin's deep base could easily be heard. "Next in line for the throne."

Bilbo's eyes widened and he pointed at Fili, drew back, pointed again, took a few seconds to try and speak before he managed, "you're heir to the throne, after Thorin?" He seemed to find all his quite the shock, and yet he should have known.

"Aye, Laddie. Why else d'yae think they're here?" Dwalin turned from where he seemed to be keeping an eye out on the surrounding valley, tattooed arms crossed over his chest when he turned just enough to join the conversation. Kili's eyes darkened at the comment.

"Our tie to Erebor is no less than any here. We have as much right to come, regardless of who we are."

Fili's good hand coming to rest for a moment on his younger brother's knee halted the archer before he could continue and Kili turned his attention to Fili, his brother shaking his head nearly imperceptibly. "Let it rest, Taangit." Kili did not seem too keen on it, but he said nothing, pursing his lips around his pipe. Fili watched his brother silently, wrinkling his nose.

"Taangit?"

"Means arrow," Bofur supplied, overhearing Bilbo's quiet comment that he no doubt meant to keep to himself. He pulled the sausage away from the fire, peered at the meat, glanced across the fire to his brother. "Bombur!"

The sausage flew over the fire, Bombur catching the food easily.

_Creak.  
Crack._

The table Bombur had been sitting on broke completely under the weight of their largest member and his tiny piece of sausage, sending nearly all in the room into fits of laughter. Bofur almost tumbled backwards he was laughing so hard, and the toy-maker's actions were enough to pull Kili from whatever remained of his brooding after Dwalin's comment. Only Dwalin and Bifur said nothing, the warrior's gaze sweeping the valley below as Bifur stared curiously at his cousin, attempting to roast a piece of cabbage over the fire.

Bilbo shook his head lightly, reaching for his sleeping pack to look for his own pipe. "There's apparently much, very much to learn about dwarves."

"Well did you think you'd know all about us after just a fortnight?" Ori, having overheard the hobbit, sounded rather amused by the comment, though coming from the recorder what Bilbo knew was little to none, no doubt. "Do we know all there is to know of Hobbits of the Shire, Mister Bilbo?"

"Dear me no!" Bilbo laughed quietly at the absurdity of the statement, belatedly realizing just how silly his own statement had been in comparison. "Every word in your Dwarvish will surely remind me of that."

"Khuzdul," Ori supplied for him, gently correcting their burglar.

"Dinnae expect such a gift, Master Hobbit." Dwalin seemed to only speak when he found the conversation one of extreme importance and when he turned, the stern look in his eyes that he gave to Fili and Kili, and then Bofur as well, very much reminded Bilbo of the looks he'd seen Thorin send the brothers' way. Those keen eyes settled on him a moment later and he sat up straighter reflexively. "Folk o'yer kind aren't meant to be hearing any of it, much less a translation."

"Under," Bilbo cleared his throat, nodding as businesslike as possible. "Understood, Sir." Dwalin seemed satisfied with the response but he looked to Fili and Kili one more time, as though just making sure, before he resumed his sentinel duties.

But hobbits are genuinely curious creatures; beyond that, this particular hobbit was a Took. He could not help himself and turned his attention back to Fili and Kili, whispering, "why 'arrow'?"

" 'Cause that's what he is." Fili had waited a moment to see if Dwalin would overhear the conversation, took a pull on his pipe, glanced over to his brother. "Not to mention you'll not find a better archer amongst us."

"I haven't, well I haven't actually seen, seen anyone else with a bow, so I couldn't even compare." Bilbo looked a touch bewildered by this, as though he'd worked it through his mind at the same time as he made the comment. Kili took the last pull of his pipe before he twisted enough to tuck it into his coat, removing a piece of wood from seemingly the same place and unsheathing his small knife a moment later.

"That's because I'm the only one, besides Thorin, of course, who can use them." The younger dwarf's eyes twinkled at the statement and he looked rather proud, a hint of that pride rising when he spoke of his Uncle. Shaving a few pieces off the wood in his hand, he looked over to his brother, as though making sure he was still doing alright. Fili seemed to notice and met Kili's gaze with a straight stare right back. Kili made a face and turned back to his work.

"Not sure how it happened, really," Fili continued after a moment. He lightly elbowed his brother in the ribs, the brightness of his eyes matching Kili's. "This fool here started training seven years early, same time as I. Happened to see the first bow I'd attempted to make in the shop and fell in love."

Kili elbowed his brother right back with the same intensity, muttering, "oh shut it," under his breath, but apparently he didn't mean it, because Fili paid it no mind.

"Thorin seemed quite keen on the idea of letting him have one once he found out, though." Here Fili's brows furrowed, because he didn't actually know why. "Suppose you could say that's how it all started. Once Thorin found out, Kili insisted, and he started training when I did. Thorin personally trained him in archery. 'Tis a pity that after all those hard years-" he motioned to his brother, "-this is all we have to show for it."

"You know you're lucky I know how to shoot, khâzash, else you would not be here to joke about it," Kili countered, sending a quiet, knowing glance his brother's way; he didn't seem to want to say anything more on it. Fili didn't seem keen going further either, so instead he cleaned out his pipe as best he could and stowed it away as well. "You're on my bed and I need sleep. Move over."

"Oi." Kili allowed his brother's gentle shove to rock him slightly to the side, but didn't get up right away. "Who said you get this throne anyway?"

"Mother. 82 years ago. Too bad you were not there for it, otherwise this would be yours."

"At least I know how to dodge an arrow when I need to."

"At least this arrow was not one that I shot myself. Now get off my bed."

After a few moments of banter, Fili's small shove had Kili getting up. The younger of the two shook his head and moved what seemed to Bilbo less than one foot away, plopping down again to his previous position on the floor with the arm and leg of the lounge for support. They didn't seem to need to say more than that, however, and with his injury finally catching up to him, Fili easily drifted off to sleep once he'd made himself comfortable on his good side, the sound of Kili's whittling a quiet backdrop of comfort.

The other dwarves had quieted down, seeing that one of their Princes had now fallen into some well-needed rest. Kili continued to whittle what was taking - at least to Bilbo - the shape of an arrow shaft but as the evening shadows deepened and the company one by one slid into their bedrolls, the black-haired archer set aside his work and laid out his own bedroll, parallel to his brother and taking up the entire space in front of Fili.

Dwalin remained awake; Thorin had not yet returned with or without Gandalf, and as Bilbo found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open, he watched from his position as Kili, by the light of the dying fire, checked on his sleeping brother once more, touching his forehead to Fili's with a murmur that Bilbo couldn't hear before he lay down, bow within reach. Bilbo, now too close to sleep to pay attention, motioned to the bow.

"Is that the one he was talking about? The one he made?"

He could see Kili's gaze fall to him, dark eyes reflecting the low light of the embers, and it was hard to tell if that light was just a reflection, or perhaps that same happiness the archer never seemed to lose.

"No; that first was mere practice in the art. This is the only other one he's ever made."

Bilbo smiled a response, almost too tired to reply. He shifted, pulled the blanket closer, settled into his bedroll and let his eyes close.

"S'pose I should have known."


	3. The Risk that Might Break You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home. If Kili isn't careful, he could lose his brother for good. But if Fili isn't careful, he might lose something far worse: the brother he knew. When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.

"We cannot do it; Durin's day shall too soon be upon us."

Balin had come with Thorin, Gandalf, and Bilbo - who had come at Gandalf's insistence - as well as Lord Elrond to a cave beneath the waterfalls, opening into a beautiful view of the evening, only to find out from the moon runes written in the ancient language that the door to the mountain would only revealed at first light on Durin's day.

"Thorin, we must be standing in exactly the right place, at exactly the right time. We can still make it."

"Durin's day?" Bilbo whispered, craning his neck to look up to Gandalf, confused though still trying to listen.

"The first day of the Dwarves' New Year." Gandalf answered, and Bilbo had no doubt he should have been able to interject into the conversation between Thorin and Balin; because he didn't, Bilbo was certain Gandalf had already read between the lines.

"Balin, we have no time." Thorin clasped his arms, a deep frown creasing his lips as he turned away from the waterfall, away from the moon and the beautiful countryside surrounding them. Thorin's oldest advisor seemed to know better than to speak over the thoughts of his King and he remained quiet, waiting. In the end Thorin slowly turned around, facing the others. "We would have to leave right away. But we cannot. We cannot leave when Fili has had little time at all to heal."

The waterfall suddenly seemed too loud in the silence that Thorin's words left in their wake.

"Thorin-" Gandalf took a half step forwards, but the son of Thrain shook his head, facing the grey wizard.

"I know what you would say to me, Gandalf. I know you would say this is not my decision to make. You would say that my sister-son made the choice to come, that he has every right to be a part of this decision." His gaze changed, hardened, setting his stance. "But he is my sister-son. I cannot guarantee his safety, but I must try. I am responsible for his fate."

When Gandalf frowned, the 2,000-year-old wizard could easily put Thorin's frowns to shame and right now, frown he most certainly did, though Bilbo couldn't quite understand the full extent of the frown, or the deep, searching look with which Gandalf regarded the heir of Durin. Lord Elrond wisely kept silent, and neither Balin nor Bilbo thought speaking up would be best either.

"There are twelve other members of your company, Master Dwarf. You cannot make such a decision without speaking with Fili. You might have his best interests as your intent, but he is a dwarfling no longer. He has come knowing the dangers he faces. You will remove this choice, nay, you will remove his voice from these decisions that certainly pertain to him. He'll not see it as protection. You might perhaps shame your own nephew, the heir to your throne. You'll let the quest, how far we have come, be postponed because of an arrow, a single arrow." Gandalf shook his head, stepping closer to Thorin so he could speak more quietly to the dwarf. "You've come this far, Thorin Oakenshield, with only one arrow wound as the lasting injury to your company. It is a testament to the skills of your dwarves. Do not make this decision without speaking with them first, without speaking with Fili first."

The heir of Durin's lips pressed tightly shut, dark eyes silently regarding the grey wizard before he tipped his head up, shoulders squared.

"I will speak with my company. I will speak with my sister-son."

Bilbo didn't want to say that Gandalf seemed relieved, though Balin certainly did. No, Gandalf, the hobbit never could quite read the wizard, but he certainly was content with the statement from Thorin and he nodded, leaning in closer to whisper so quietly that Bilbo, nor even Balin and Lord Elrond could hear. Pulling back, Gandalf nodded to those in the cave and looked to Elrond.

"We must speak, mellon-nin." He followed Elrond out of the cave, but not without a final glance over his shoulder to Thorin. And Bilbo somehow knew in that moment that he was not to follow Gandalf this time; that he must follow Thorin.

Whatever the wizard's intent, Bilbo Baggins of Bag End would find out just when the time was right. So he padded after Balin and Thorin on silent feet, not quite walking next to them, but soundless as he was, Thorin hardly seemed to notice.  
_____

"If we must make it to Erebor before Durin's day, we cannae delay here any longer."

"We may yet have to, brother." Balin's voice seemed much softer than Dwalin's, the two of them sitting to Thorin's left. Most of the company was speaking, all at once, it seemed, though Thorin and Fili remained silent.

The rest had certainly done the company much good; the evening seemed perhaps even more beautiful than the previous one in which they had come to Rivendell. Dinner had come and gone, though the dwarves remained seated around the table, no elf within sight or sense. The night seemed too serene, in fact, too tranquil, when the company heard just what the map had said.  
Thorin slowly raised his right arm, signaling a silence that fell instantly over the company, all looking expectantly to their leader. The son of Thrain leveled a gaze it seemed at each dwarf in turn.

"Our journey will need to be swift. We will have little time to spare. We know not what dangers still await us over the edge of the wild."

"Thorin, if time cannot be bartered, we must leave. We must not delay," Fili spoke up. It was surprising how his softer voice could speak to his uncle where no other's could. Seated at Thorin's right, Kili right beside him, Thorin's heir had needed the rest, but all could see that one night would not heal an arrow that had bit deep. Right arm still crossed over his chest to keep from jarring the injury, Fili, it seemed, was the only one in the company to not notice the wound he sported.

Or perhaps he deliberately did not focus upon it, Bilbo thought. But Thorin broke off Bilbo's study of Fili with his next words.

Durin's heir had pressed his palms into the table, pressing down slowly. Just the breath before his words had everyone quiet, waiting.

"We have already been through many dangers. What awaits us I know not. To hurry with all haste into the unknown when we are not all fully prepared-" his gaze flicked to Fili, "-would not be wise."

Not one of the dwarves had spoken, and yet the silence now seemed heavier. A look of consternation, shock, and perhaps shame, crossed Fili's features and his good shoulder tensed. Blue eyes never left Thorin.

"You mean to keep me here. You mean to leave me behind."

"Fili..."

"No, Kili." Fili did not push his brother away, but leaning forwards, his unbound arm pressing to the table, fist clenched, he dislodged his brother's hand from his shoulder, focused on his uncle.

"Thorin, I can fight. I will rest only when the company rests. I'll not be a burden. I've come this far, too far to turn back. I can't just sit, waiting in the home of the elves for news of your journey. I can't just leave-" he cut off his mostly quiet words, looking out of the corner of his eye at his brother. "I would take more than an arrow to protect you. And it will take more than an arrow to stop me."

Of the eleven other members in the company, ten knew that this was not their discussion; only Kili knew that he could not remain silent.

"Come, lads." Balin stood up first, motioning to the other members of the company, who all nodded to Thorin before taking their leave, letting the heirs of Durin to speak alone.

"We can do this, Uncle." Kili waited just long enough for them to be alone, leaning in close to his brother, though focused on Thorin. "Oin is a good healer; he's already taken care of him. And I'll watch out for him as well."

Fili didn't seem too pleased with his brother's remark, but he said nothing; not now.

"I will not be a burden. I do not fight with only one blade. I've come knowing the dangers we might face."

"No, you do not. You know nothing of the world." Thorin pushed himself from the table, stood up, and turned away, arms once more crossed over his chest, leaving his nephews to gaze up at him from their seats at the table. Finally the son of Thrain looked back to them, sighing quietly. "And yet even I do not know what may lie ahead of us." He moved closer to his nephews, leaning his palms once more against the table, gaze resting on the older of the two. "Knowing nothing of what may still lie ahead, I ask you now if you wish to continue this quest without delay. The company will wait - I will wait - if you say nay, Fili, and we will pass no judgment. What is your will?"

Kili could only look to his older brother through disheveled black bangs, see the way Fili's shoulders straightened, despite the injury he'd sustained. Slowly rising from the table, Fili inclined his head, tugged one of his braids.

"We have no time to spare. I will not be left behind, I will not be a burden. Of this you have my bond."

Thorin seemed to have expected this answer, because he sighed, inclined his gaze to the table before nodding.

"Then it is done. We leave at first light and take the mountain pass. Before then-" flecks of steel hardened Thorin's gaze, "-Elrond will see your wound. I will take no chances." Only then did his gaze soften - a look reserved only for his sister-sons - and he touched a hand to Fili's uninjured shoulder. "Rest, make much of this time that we have been given."  
______

Elrond had come to tend to Fili in their makeshift camp, the older son of Dis once more lying on his stomach upon the lounge as the Lord of Rivendell surveyed the damage. Thorin stood silently just off to the side, saying nothing, gaze giving away nothing either. Kili might have tried to discern what his uncle may be thinking, but standing on the opposite side of the lounge, near his brother’s hand, the most he could do was grip tightly onto the armrest right next to the blonde, braided locks. Elrond, praising Oin’s work, had also warned that the healing he could offer would not mend the injury within the night. Yet he had set the shattered bone of Fili’s shoulder to mending more quickly, in the hopes that he may be more able to face whatever trials may be ahead.

"May the hand of Mahal watch you and keep you from harm," the Lord of Rivendell had uttered, a blessing both of the dwarves and the elves at once, before he had departed.

It appeared as though a day had not passed but rather simply a dream for the night so that when Bilbo woke up he found himself in the same position as when he had fallen asleep. Yet though most of the company lay asleep around the dying embers of the fire, Fili and Kili were not asleep this time. The dark-haired archer continued whittling, the shaft of the arrow more and more taking shape, but this time he sat on the edge of the lounge that served as Fili's bed. His older brother, lying as he was on his side, left ample room for Kili to sit near his hips. Though almost asleep, he watched his brother whittling silently. Kili shook his head, finally breaking the silence and dropping his hands to his lap.

"He let an elf tend to you." No doubt this had been playing in Kili's mind for quite some time and the surprise still echoed back faintly in his voice. "He let Lord Elrond tend to you."

Sometimes Bilbo wished they were not so close, because the smile Fili answered with said everything to Kili, but nothing to Bilbo. Then again, he knew he should be resting, not looking over to the two remaining members of the company still awake.

"Go to sleep, Taangit." Fili patted his brother's elbow, the closest thing he could reach, shaking his head. "Have you not learned that you will never completely be able to decipher him?"

Kili sighed, flicked some wayward strands of hair out of his eyes and lay back next to his brother, one knee bent upwards. Even the ceilings in Rivendell were decorated, he noticed, gaze locked onto them. Silence descended for a few moments too long and Bilbo let his eyes close, just about to drift to sleep when his keen ears heard Kili whisper to his brother.

"I meant what I said, khâzash. I know you can do this, but I will watch out for you."

"Of course you will, but I will still keep you from being foolish."

"...What do you think is out there that worries Uncle so?"

"It's not for us to worry over. He will go, we will follow. We will not let him down."

A faint chuckle came right before Kili's last words. Or at least, the last words Bilbo remembered hearing. "No, you're right. We won't let him down." Kili's voice became softer, as though Fili had already fallen asleep and he didn't mean anyone to hear him. "...I won't let either of you down."


	4. You Still Have Room to Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home. If Kili isn't careful, he could lose his brother for good. But if Fili isn't careful, he might lose something far worse: the brother he knew. When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.

“What’s that?” As they all sat about the fire eating their stew, Bilbo looked to Bofur seated next to him and motioned across the fire to Bifur. Bofur’s cousin had already finished his stew and looked to be whittling a small figure, but Bilbo couldn’t make it out over the fire. Bofur set down his spoon and looked over to his cousin, hat casting shadows over his face from the fire.  
“Oi, Bifur!” He made a motion when the other dwarf looked up and Bifur held up his work for Bofur to see. Bofur tipped his head to the side, squinted and then nodded before enjoying another spoonful of his stew. “Looks to be a rabbit with fangs and claws, no eyes and six legs,” he responded cheerily, barely even noticing the look of mild consternation on Bilbo’s face.

The company had slipped out of Rivendell two days ago, in the wee hours of the morning, though Bilbo felt he was the only one truly sad to leave the Hidden Valley. Most of the company hardly looked back, but Thorin made sure to single him out just long enough to remind him to keep up. Without the ponies that had bolted at the first sign of whargs two days ago, the hobbit realized only belatedly just how much of a difference riding made. On the brighter side of the path, at least it was not raining. Bilbo was still quite grateful when Thorin finally called the company to a halt to make camp for the evening at the foot of the Misty Mountains.

“Nori, see to the fire. Bombur, we’re all hungry. Fili, you’ll take first watch.” Bilbo had almost memorized Thorin’s set-up-camp ritual, though without the ponies, things certainly had changed. Thankfully Lord Elrond had seen to it that they were well-provisioned, though they ended up running into the same problem they’d had in Rivendell, which prompted Thorin to add one more order.

“Kili,” he nodded to the woods to the south, “see if you can’t find us some meat.”

Everyone in the company went about their tasks and soon a fire just big enough to cook, offer heat, and light as the evening shadows darkened, blazed for them. Their archer had shed all but his weapons and slipped as quietly as possible into the woods and by the time Bombur had set about making the stew, he’d returned with a brace of conies, much to the pleasure of the company, many of whom clapped Kili on the back as a form of thanks.

Seated a little ways back from the fire, but still within the circle, Balin and Thorin spoke quietly, though any who wished to listen could hear.

“We’ll make for the mountain pass first light tomorrow. With luck we can be through before the shadows lengthen.”

“We’re to wait for Gandalf in the pass.”

“If we cannot make it through before dark we’ll camp in the mountains and he’ll find us anyway.” Thorin turned enough to look at the dark slopes looming high above them to the west, gaze darting towards his sister-sons for a fleeting moment, and then back to Balin. “I would not remain in the mountains longer than we must.”

Fili and Kili didn’t seem to notice their uncle’s gaze upon them; focused such as they were. Kili had managed to find a piece of dead tree large enough for them to sit upon; he’d finished his meal already and now his brows were furrowed, dark eyes centered on the arrow shaft in his hand. Every so often he would stop shaving off pieces of wood and hold it up to glance down the length, turning it slowly between thumb and forefinger before resuming the previous position, shaving off more.

“Why are you working so hard?” Ori asked, looking curiously over to Kili. The son of Dis had made other arrows before, but he seemed to be putting too much effort into this one, a sort of intense concentration.

“It’s almost done.” Apparently Kili thought that answer was enough, though actually no, Bilbo didn’t think that made much sense, and it didn’t answer the question he’d heard Ori ask, the real question.

Fili, still eating because he had to eat left-handed, glanced next to him at his brother as Kili blew shavings away, but if they hoped he’d offer further insight they were sorely disappointed, as the older of the two just watched a moment before slowly trying to lift the stew to his lips again. Kili held the arrow-shaft up, balancing it across his two leather-covered fingers, testing the balance.

For a few moments silence descended on the camp, each dwarf preoccupied, whether eating, creating, or merely ruminating over their pipes. A breeze picked up, bouncing back off the mountains and through the camp, ruffling the trees.

“Storm is coming.” Even Oin’s voice sounded quiet, though they all knew he didn’t tend to speak softly. Dwalin, the only one still standing, gazed out towards the mountains ahead of them. The fire crackled brightly, as though quite content to blaze happily away without the rain to dampen it.

Kili dug into his pocket and pulled out the arrowhead fitting it onto one end of the shaft he’d created, again testing the balance. Frowning, the archer flipped out his knife from the sheath he wore across his shoulder and down at his left hip. Deftly flipping the blade to the serrated edge, he meticulously sawed off some of the wood. Bilbo thought that Kili must have chosen a specific spot, but he couldn’t tell why, could only watch with a bit of fascination. Kili held it up again and this time the arrow balanced perfectly over his two fingers.

“Is that my arrow?” Fili’s voice broke the silence again, finally setting his empty bowl aside. Kili was already searching for something in his bags next to him, but he hummed an assent, plucking out the feathers he’d picked up while hunting for supper earlier for the fletching. His older brother watched silently, now seemingly as caught up as Bilbo in watching Kili fashion a new arrow, but the hobbit could tell from the faint frown on Fili’s face that this was different from the other times. Sure enough, gazing down the arrow-shaft to the head, Bilbo realized that the arrowhead was not so cleanly, finely made as a dwarven or elven arrow, but possessed the crude quality of an orcish arrow.

Fili finally sighed and moved to rise slowly from the log, empty bowl loosely balanced in his right hand to allow him to use his left. Watching his brother clean his dish out was the only time when Kili had paused in the last fifteen minutes it seemed, dark eyes focusing on his brother with the same intensity he’d just afforded to the arrow. He pursed his lips and Bilbo almost wanted to laugh at how much like Thorin he looked in that moment. Probably not a good idea though and he looked away, back to his own pipe, pressing his fingers over the top as he enjoyed a good, long drag of South Farthing’s finest longbottom leaf.

________________________

The long trek of the past two days, without ponies and alternating between walking and lightly jogging to the edge of the mountains, had not been the most pleasant of sensations for Durin’s heir. Not that he said anything; and he wouldn’t say anything. Fili, having been given first watch, sat on the log, facing away from camp; he silently peered out into the darkness, left blade removed from the lower scabbard and resting casually across his knees. The pain had dulled to a throb during dinner and the camp, compared to not even an hour before, now lay still and quiet, the company fast asleep with only the sounds of Bombur’s snoring and the wildlife chirping and rustling about them. In the privacy of his watch, Fili allowed himself to frown and slump a bit, trying to shift into any position that would reduce the pain, which was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

“Kili, sleep. I’m not waking up for your watch, so you might as well sleep through mine.”

Knowing when he’d been caught, Dis’s younger son sighed and shifted upright behind his brother, bundling his cloak so he could cushion his head against the log, next to his brother’s thigh. He peered up in the dim light of the moon at his older brother’s features, but Fili steadfastly kept his eyes on the darkness surrounding the camp. Snagging Fili’s bag, his brother rifled through the contents before pulling out a small vial, clearly of elven make, holding it up and behind.

“Here. You know it’ll help.”

Fili glanced away from the trees to the floating hand and vial, paused a moment, and then took it from his brother, peering at the blue-green contents.

“Thorin wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Uncle wants you to heal. He may not like the elves but he won’t let that cloud his judgment.” Kili waited for his brother to uncap the vial and take the smallest of sips – he wasn’t supposed to take more at a time – before handing it back so Kili to stash it away again. The archer paused, a faint frown lighting on his features when he caught sight of a second vial, similar to the first, almost hidden now as it slipped further into the folds of Fili’s spare garments.

“No quest is without chances,” Elrond had spoken quietly, handing the two vials to Fili, though he looked between the both of them. “They will help, when you find you need them.” Kili, standing at his brother’s side, had watched Fili nod formally, fingers closing over the vials.

Now, reaching for the second, Kili let it roll between his fingers, tipped a glance over his shoulder at his brother’s back, before he pushed the vial into the inside pocket of his jerkin, closing Fili’s bag and setting it aside, returning to his position resting against the log. When he caught the quiet sigh that Fili released, Kili’s lips quirked up in a clear smirk and he peered up at his brother’s profile, mostly shadowed in darkness, the firelight at his back, highlighting his gold hair and the silver clasps of his braids.

“Feels better, doesn’t it.”

“Kili. Sleep.”

Kili knew what that answer meant and he laughed quietly, clasping his elbows across his chest and letting his eyes slip closed. Next to him, he could sense it when Fili moved, even just the slightest to get comfortable, could hear it when he let out a deeper breath than the others, resuming his watch.

Fili, in turn, heard it when his brother’s breathing evened out into sleep and he arched his eyebrow when he finally glanced down at his brother, chuckling softly.

“Your neck is going to love you tomorrow morning,” he mumbled to himself, hand falling to comb through his brother’s tangled strands one time before resuming his post.

____________

Dawn opened the next morning with a distant roll of thunder, one that the dwarves of the earth could feel beneath their feet. Fili did get to enjoy the smallest of laughs as he watched Kili rubbing the back of his neck to release the pain of sleeping on it wrong, but any comfort the company had was short-lived. Rain lashed at their faces and yet still they pushed ahead, completely against sense. They drove further into the storm, they ascended higher and higher into the mountains and the mountain pass became more slippery, treacherous, the further up they went the ground ever further beneath their feet.

“Thorin, we must find shelter!” Dwalin’s deep shout could just barely be heard in between the crashes of thunder, and he was standing next to Thorin, at the head of the company. They’d been forced to walk single file, clinging to the cliff edge and it seemed that every blast of thunder shook the entire mountain. Looking forwards, Bilbo really only knew Bofur was in front of him because of his hat, and he focused on stepping exactly where the dwarf had stepped a moment before.

If Thorin had answered, the sound was lost by another boom of thunder and the resounding shake of the mountain had a small avalanche of rocks falling from above, smashing into the overhang and falling into the endless darkness below them.

“This is not a thunder storm! It’s a thunder battle!” They all heard Balin’s voice, having stopped, clinging to the wall and waiting for the ground to stop shaking. Looking out, Bilbo’s eyes widened as he watched the rock, the rock turn and pick up another large boulder and send it smashing above them. Bofur seemed to have lost all sense as soon as he saw the rock formation move, because he shifted to get a better look, eyes wide.

“Well bless me…the legends are true! Giants! _Stone_ giants!”

“Get back, you fool!” Someone shouted. The rock collided with the mountain and Bilbo and Fili both caught Bofur and shoved him back against the wall as a shower of boulders rained down towards them

“We have to keep moving!” Thorin knew if they were to find shelter, it wouldn’t be right here. But the company fell back against the sheer rock face as a tremble started in the stone. A large crack rent the air above them and Bilbo watched the fissure come barreling towards them, cleaving the ledge between Kili’s feet. He quickly stepped forwards, just in time as the fissure widened, carving the company in two.

“Kili!” Fili, suddenly caught at the edge, reached out for his brother, both of them leaning into the gap, but it widened too quickly, they couldn’t reach each other. They’d never been able to not reach each other.

“Take my hand!”

The ground convulsed beneath them, knocking everyone against the cliff face, clinging desperately.

Kili’s desperate shout and almost lunge for his brother was lost in the rain and he nearly lost his footing but for Dori forcing him back against the wall. Kili couldn’t take his eyes off of his brother when Bofur latched onto Fili’s jacket, shoving him back against the wall as his older brother lost his balance, not having the use of his right arm. Fili hardly noticed the blinding pain that surged through him from the jarring slam, eyes locked onto his brother’s as Kili was carried further and further away. He didn’t need to see his own face to know that Kili’s expression – with his dark eyes open wide, terrified, locked onto his brother, black hair whipping against his face, rain soaking into his skin completely unnoticed – was mirrored on his own.

And then Kili couldn’t see his brother anymore and the ground was moving. They could do nothing but cling to the face of the rock until a jarring smash ricocheted through the rock

“Jump!”

Kili reacted instinctively, following Dori and leaping over the gap onto unmoving rock just as the leg they’d been on moved away again, back to the battle. Picking himself up, Kili searched through the lashing rain for a sign of his brother, the other half of their company, knowing that six ahead of him, Thorin was doing exactly the same. He wanted to move, he wanted to run and fight and do something, but what could he do? A deep chasm separated the other half of their company from them and they were helpless to do anything but watch.

And then he could see them.

Through the darkness the other half of their company came sailing past them; he knew he shouted something to his brother, but just with the other shouts of the company, they were all blown back into their faces on the wind. Kili could see Bofur with one hand still caught in the strap of Fili’s bag to keep him in place. He could see that flash of blonde hair, his brother trying to cling to the wall with only one hand. Bilbo alternated between squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and forcing them wide open, each moment terrified of seeing, and then terrified of not knowing. No. No, no, nonononono…

The stone giant was falling. Dimly Kili thought he heard his Uncle shout hold on! but he couldn’t be sure. Fili, Bofur, Bombur, Bilbo, Dwalin, Ori, and Balin vanished from view, to the frantic shouts of their comrades and kin. A great crash split the air, the ground quaking one more time as the stones collided together. When the giant fell back, the ledge where Fili and the others had been was empty, was gone.

Rounding the corner, Kili nearly smacked into Dori’s back when they stopped short, seeing the other half of their group in a giant heap, slowly picking themselves up. Thorin counted quickly, found Fili immediately by his disheveled blonde hair.

“Where’s Bilbo?” Bofur, a bit dazed but already standing, seemed to be reacting on instinct himself when he counted one member of their company missing. They found him barely gripping onto the sheer cliff and Ori and Bofur were both trying to grab for him. But Bilbo was too terrified to let go an inch, and they were too far away. He slipped, the action echoed by a shout from the company. And then Thorin was there, gripping at his cloak and with raw strength shoved Bilbo closer so he could catch Bofur’s hand before he slipped himself.

“Thorin!” Dwalin wasted no time, the muscles in his tattooed arm cording as he caught their leader’s hand and pulled him up with a growl. With the entire company safe on the ledge, they took a moment to press back against the face of the mountain, dragging in a few breaths.

“I thought we’d lost our burglar.”

“He’s been lost ever since he left home.” Thorin’s gruff voice responded, pausing to look back at Bilbo.

Stepping quickly behind the company as they hoisted Bilbo back up onto the ledge, Kili pushed through to his brother, kneeling at Fili’s side. Unlike the rest of the company, his older brother had yet to rise, blonde hair and cloak hiding his face, Kili brushed wet hair out of Fili’s eyes, heart pounding against the cage of his ribs from the shock of the whole situation they’d just been through. Fili’s fingers closed into the fabric on his brother’s chest as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily. Kili, pushing more of his brother’s hair back to get a good luck at his face, blanched when he saw how white Fili’s face had become. The makeshift sling was still in place, but that seemed to be the only blessing they had. Blood trailed in small rivulets from a cut at Fili’s temple and the older son of Dis locked eyes with his brother. Kili could see the pain and shame reflected back in those blue eyes. Shame. Fili knew he couldn’t hide his pain and Kili could see that he was ashamed; somewhere in there, he was ashamed.

“Fili-” the dark-haired archer cut off when his throat closed over words, fingers shaking as he tried to see if his brother was alright. He finally managed to push Fili’s outer jacket to the side and twisted himself to look at the injury before he all but screamed-

“Uncle!”

Fili’s eyes squeezed shut at the cry and he fell forwards enough to touch his forehead to Kili’s, breathing labored. Kili never called for Thorin that way; not in front of the company. Kili turned his attention back to his brother, clasping Fili’s face in his hands and trying to calm his own breathing.

“It’s alright. I’m alright.”

“Durin’s beard, Fili, you’re not alright.” Fili could feel the faint tremble in his brother’s hands and he tried to calm him, gripping tightly to his brother’s clothes and using them to lightly push his brother, as though to get him back to his senses.

“Dwalin, find us shelter, quickly! Oin!” Above them, they could hear Thorin’s voice shouting orders as the rest of the company made it to them. Fili felt more than saw Thorin kneel down beside them, but when their Uncle gently pulled Kili back, Fili looked up at him, hand falling from his brother’s tunic to cross over his chest and clutch his arm, as though it would help the pain.

“Thorin, I’m sor-”

“No.” Thorin cut his nephew off sharply, surveying the damage as best he could out here before Oin came to kneel down as well, the space rather small and crowded.

“Thorin!” Dwalin’s voice cut through from up ahead and he rounded a corner, visible again, dropping his voice. “There’s a cave, just up ahead.”

Thorin needed no further bidding. “Get the others inside. Check to the back. Caves in the mountains are seldom unoccupied.”

Dwalin nodded and disappeared again, rounding up the company as Kili and Thorin turned back to Fili. The older of his nephews had yet to move, eyes carefully closed against the pain that he tried to hide.

“Fili, Kili, come.” He regarded the older of his sister-son’s silently and Fili nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I can stand, Thorin.”

Of course, standing would have taken much longer without Kili’s help and Fili accepted his brother’s hand as a steadying balance while he rose to his feet, Kili never quite far from his side, partially blocking the wind and the rain with his body. Once standing, Fili straightened and squared his shoulders as best he could, allowing Kili to lead him into the cave, Thorin bringing up the rear. The heir of Durin paused at the entrance to the cave and looked back, left and right, to make sure they had not been followed, before disappearing into the cave.

“There’s nothing here, Thorin,” Dwalin stepped forwards as soon as they entered and Kili lead Fili away from the entrance to the cave, as far back as they could be and still see in the dim light.

“I’ll get us a fire going,” Gloin added, dropping some antlers and other bones he’d found to the floor, but Thorin shook his head, holding up a hand.

“No, no fires. Not tonight. Bofur, take first watch. Everyone keep a close eye and your weapons closer. Oin-” he jerked his head towards his sister-sons, “-see to Fili.”

Fili sank gratefully down to the cave floor, Kili ever at his side. Fili let his head rest back against the wall and lolled it enough to look at his brother, offering him a bit of a lopsided, tired smile.

“You look like a drowned rat, Taangit.” Kili glanced sharply up at his brother, eyes narrowed as he tried to come up with a suitable response, but worry clouded his thoughts. Fili’s smile faded at the silence from his brother and he shifted closer, bumping his forehead into Kili’s and catching the back of the younger dwarf’s neck. “Kili, stop.”

“I’m not the one who’s hurt, Fili.” Kili’s hands were shaking and he tried to still them, letting one grip onto his older brother’s tunic. He still hadn’t calmed down from the separation out on the mountainside. And if he were completely honest with himself-

-he was terrified; well and truly terrified. It coiled into the pit of his stomach, snaking tendrils of black heat coiling up and around his heart, clutching, twisting, squeezing, until he momentarily forgot how to breathe.

Is this what it felt like then? Was this terror?

“Kili!” Fili’s sharp call, sharp as it could be, broke him from his thoughts and he focused on his brother, on those pained blue eyes. “Durin’s beard, Kili…”

Kili knew what his brother saw and he looked away, pulling back just enough so that Oin could step closer and see to the young dwarf. All around them the rest of the company were unrolling their bedrolls, setting up camp as best they could in the dark cave. Certainly more than one wished to have a fire going, even just to let their clothes dry, but none dared to question Thorin, knew his decision had been made with the best intentions.

“Come on, Laddie. Let’s get these packs off.” Kili helped divest Fili of the extra gear and used the moment to distract himself by unrolling their bedrolls and setting up camp right where they were as Oin tended to Fili.

“How is he?” Thorin quietly asked Kili several minutes later, watching his dark-haired nephew watching Fili. Oin did what he could, but it was too cold to remove Fili’s clothing and Fili did not really want to move, resting as he was with his head back against the cave wall, breathing as slowly as he could. Kili had his arms crossed over his chest, a deep frown marring his face, voice clipped.

“Says he’s fine.”

Thorin’s hand descended to Kili’s shoulder and he squeezed, not releasing the pressure.

Oin stepped over to Thorin a moment later, nodding to the both of them, trying to keep his voice down. “Rain’s not good for the lad, or the cold. Seems he’s aggravated his injury during the collision. He’s resting now, but-” Gloin’s father paused, took a deep breath and focused on Thorin, “-Thorin, its best if we find someplace for him to rest for a few days. I fear it will get worse before it gets better if he doesn’t have time to heal.”

Kili’s jaw tightened and he looked over to his brother, knowing what he needed to do. When he got closer and knelt next to his brother, Fili cracked one eye open, tipping his head just slightly to look to his brother as Kili dug through his pack, searching for the small vial. Fili knew what he searched for, didn’t object to it.

Kili cursed in Khuzdul, too quietly for Bilbo to hear, movements frenetic as he jerked the vial out and seated himself in front of his brother, one knee up, the other ankle tucked beneath.

“Drink.”

Fili once again did not protest, taking the vial and taking another small sip before handing it back, sighing.

“Kili-”

“Don’t. Just-” Kili held up his hands and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Just don’t, Fili. Not yet.”

Fili didn’t argue; the hair on the back of Kili’s neck stood up at that and he set his brother’s bag aside, watching him

“Fili?” The worry started creeping back into his voice, lacing with the cold knot that settled in the pit of his stomach when Fili shook his head. And Kili realized that his brother’s good arm no longer rested over his other, but rather pressed against his chest, as though forcing himself to take a breath and keep the pain at bay.

“Everyone up! Rise!” Thorin’s order echoed through the cave and Kili scrambled the half foot to get to his brother’s side, just barely grazing his arm before he tumbled backwards with a shout as the ground opened up below them.


	5. For We Are All Born Mortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home. If Kili isn't careful, he could lose his brother for good. But if Fili isn't careful, he might lose something far worse: the brother he knew. When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was physically exhausting to write. But I'm working on the next chapter as we speak. Comments would be greatly appreciated, as I am the most nervous about this chapter. If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading.

Ori barely had time to wake up from Thorin’s shout; barely had time to cry out, he wasn’t even sure if it was Dori or Nori he’d started to shout.

He didn’t even have a chance to get his bearings, too busy catching his breath every time a jutting stone knocked it out of him. The tunnel opened up, depositing the entire company onto a wooden platform. Some of the company had broken his fall, and he thought he caught a glimpse of Dwalin’s tattooed head before Bombur landed at the top of their heap. Several of them shouted as the weight of Bombur’s body knocked the breath from them one more time and Ori swore he also heard a low, pained groan from somewhere below.

And then chaos broke.

It came with the screeches.

It came with the pounding of feet.

It came with the mass of goblins that rounded the corner, war cries and howls echoing through the immense cave into which they’d fallen. They swarmed over the company who were still trying desperately to untangle themselves and get their bearings. Ori knew he was supposed to observe everything, be able to record it for later, that’s why he had come with his brothers on this quest, but only flashes seared into his brain, everything else happening too fast.

“Fili!” Behind him at the back of the cage, Kili had managed to disentangle himself and searched for his brother as the goblins jerked first Bifur, then Thorin to their feet on the other side. Bofur had just managed to help his brother to his feet when two other goblins caught the toymaker and all but threw him in line with the others.

“Nori!” Ori caught a glimpse of three-peaked red hair near Kili and couldn’t stop himself from calling. He’d drawn attention to himself; gnarled, deformed hands latched anywhere, everywhere they could, dragging him away from the company. He thought he heard Kili calling for his brother one more time before he had to look to his own feet, scarcely able to see anything but goblins all around him and the occasional glimpse of Gloin’s red hair in front of him.

“I said, get off ‘a me!” Dwalin’s growl seemed to echo, or perhaps it was too distinctive compared to the caterwauling of the goblins, but for a moment the line stopped as the warrior fought back, turning the attention of all the goblins to him. As the tallest member of their company, Dwalin towered over most of the goblins, and simply ploughed through four goblins before he turned and stopped. At least, to Ori it looked as though he simply stopped fighting and let the goblins surge forwards again, drawing the group forwards. A flash of blonde hair and disheveled braids now right behind Dwalin’s shoulder caught Ori’s eye, but he had time only to process Fili as Dwalin’s reason for suddenly retaliating before the goblins once more hustled him forwards.

The stone walls surrounding them abruptly tapered off into an immense cavern and Ori knew his eyes were nearly as wide. Goblins infested the walls for miles above them, lining crude wooden plank-ways and platforms, all eyes trained upon the newcomers as the dwarves were led forwards.

“Who dares to enter my domain so armed?”

They halted, the clamor ceased, and the ground shook with two distinct footfalls. Boom. Boom.

“Dwarves, your malevolence,” the reedy voice of a goblin standing just in front of Kili answered, bowing slightly. “Found them on the front porch.”

Ori, now that they were standing still, wanted desperately to look for his brothers, but he could not take his eyes off of the bulbous, bloated body of the Great Goblin standing before them. Warts and sores covered the goblin, from bone-crown to tree-trunk feet. For a moment Ori truly wanted to be sick. The sack of a chin wobbled grotesquely when the Goblin King stepped down to get closer to the company, none of whom had said a single word.

“Well, don’t just stand there, search them!”

Shrieks and cheers erupted as the goblins swept over the company grabbing the weapons they had managed to hold on to during the fall. A goblin wrenched his slingshot from his belt, throwing it next to Bofur’s mattock, Dwalin’s twin axes, Thorin’s shield and blades; he saw his brother’s bolas join the pile, then Bifur’s boar-spear crashing down atop the rest.

A pained cry, immediately choked off after the initial surprise, had the company and the goblins turning towards the sound.

“This one’s already broken, Sire!”

“Bring him forward!” The Goblin King slammed his staff into the floorboards, the shrunken heads and animal bones clattering hollowly against each other. Standing to the side, Ori could only watch as two goblins forced Fili through and into full view of the Great Goblin. The Heir of Durin had since regained his composure, but the temporary sling on his arm now hung uselessly at his side, the cloth ripped clean through when the goblin tore the dagger from his right vambrace. The goblins seemed to take great joy in divesting Fili of his other weapons as the others watched, and one by one, his war hammer joined the pile, his blades - ripped from his back - and daggers clattered atop the heap, and finally the four throwing axes were snatched from his boots. Through the violation, Fili did not move, teeth clenched against the pain, but steadily boring a hole in the Great Goblin with his eyes.

Silence descended again as the Great Goblin rose to full height, looming over the company.

“Why have you come here?” Heavily protruding eyes searched the company to find a dwarf that was not silently staring back at him. He received no answer.

_Crack._

Fili bit down on a cry as the staff slammed down onto his injured shoulder, eyes rolling upwards as white-hot pain exploded in his vision, one knee buckling slightly. He curled forwards, instinctively trying to protect his right side, forcing himself to stay upright.

Scuffling from behind temporarily stole the Goblin King’s attention as several of the dwarves jerked forwards, only to be restrained by their captors. The Great Goblin leered, focusing on Fili once more.

“You.” The tip of his staff pressed under Fili’s chin, forcing the young dwarf’s head up so the goblin could see the pain still clouding his vision. “Why have you come here?”

Nostrils flaring to combat the pain, Fili didn’t move nor speak. And Ori wanted to believe without a doubt that no matter what, he never would.

“Well then! If they won’t talk, we’ll make them squawk!” The Great Goblin threw his arms out, addressing the goblins watching the proceedings from every nook and cranny. The immense cavern exploded with cheers. “Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker!” Amidst the shrieks from the frenzy, the Goblin King lowered his voice, peering out over the company, a sneer curling the spit-ridden decay of his lips upwards. “Who shall we start with? Hm?”

“Wait!” Thorin’s voice cut through the cave, echoing off the walls. The goblins quieted down perhaps faster than they had for their own king, watching silently as the dwarf stepped to the front, standing tall next to Fili. His gaze remained fixed on the Goblin King, shoulders squared, even as the Great Goblin’s eyes widened comically in feigned surprise.

“Well my my, if it isn’t Thorin Oakenshield! King under the Mountain!” He bowed theatrically, his tone little more than mocking. “Your Majesty.” He pulled back just as suddenly, bone staff clacking. “But wait. You don’t have a mountain. And you’re not really a king now are you. So that makes you,” he paused, a pity-pout pushing his lips down even as a derisive smile lit his face up, “nobody, really.”

Thorin said nothing, even though Ori felt his face heating up in anger at the Goblin King’s daring. A quick glance told him almost all the others felt the same way; he could see Dwalin’s hands clenching into fists at his sides and the entire company seemed to be tensing. Kili, caught in the middle behind his brother and uncle, seemed to be forcing himself not to surge forwards. Only Fili and Thorin did not move, did not seem effected by the Great Goblin’s scorn. Slamming his staff down, the goblin silenced the jeers echoing through Goblintown, a crazed grin marring his face. “I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached.”

Still Thorin said nothing, refusing to fall to the bait.

“Do you not remember: A pale orc, astride a white warg!”

“Azog the Defiler was destroyed long ago.”

With just that one response, the Goblin King knew he’d gotten to Thorin, even if just a little.

“So you think his defiling days are done, do you?” He laughed and waved a hand at the sniveling creature sitting on a swing near his throne. “Send word to Azog.” His eyes landed on Thorin again. “I have his prize.”

The goblin’s cackle seemed just as pathetic as he was as he disappeared into the darkness to relay the message.

“And what shall we do with you, Nobody?” The goblin stepped on a pile of his minions in order to sit back on his throne, gazing imperiously towards the leader of their company. “Shall we let you keep your head? Shall we let Azog enjoy the pleasure of breaking you himself?” He slammed his staff down. “And what of your little band? What would you have me do with them?”

“Let them go. You have no need of them; they are not of your concern.”

A beat passed.

The Goblin King stared momentarily at Thorin before raucous laughter bubbled through his corpulent body, distended stomach wobbling with each cackle.

“For one so small, you truly have grand visions of your importance, Thorin Oakenshield.” The throne seemed as though it might break with each small shift of the Goblin King’s body. “We have much work that needs to be done here in Goblintown. We could always use the entertainment.” He pushed off the throne again, feet hitting the floor with a resounding thud, small tremors rocking through the stone with each footfall as he came closer to Thorin again. “So which will you choose, Thorin Oakenshield? Which of your merry little band-” he swept an arm out, motioning to the other dwarves currently held in place in a semicircle around the perimeter, save for three in the center. “Which will you leave behind with me? Which will you have me set free to spread word of your demise?” He leaned in closer, leering at the heir of Durin. “And which will you have me kill?”

Silence greeted his words; the son of Thrain standing his ground, refusing to rise to the bait yet again.

“I was hoping you would let me choose.” The Great Goblin threw back his head and laughed once more, staff banging against the ground in his glee before all at once he’d whirled around, bent almost double to peer at the dwarves in Thorin’s company, uncomfortably close to each one, speaking to Thorin as he moved through the band and his goblins, singing cheerfully: “Three to sport, three to fly, three to slave, three to die.” His staff came up to poke hard at Oin’s chest, pushing just enough to send the older dwarf swaying. “What do you think, Thorin, shall he live?” He tapped Balin with one of the animal horns at the top, nodding. “Who better to spread word of your demise?” He whirled to face Thorin again, sneering gleefully. “If they live long enough to get past Azog, of course. Ah!”

He plucked Bofur off the ground, the toymaker immediately struggling in his grip, but the Great Goblin hardly seemed to notice. “We need the strong ones, much work to do down in the deep.” Bombur and Bifur both lunged forwards, only to be stopped from getting to their brother and cousin by the goblins who kept them firmly in place. But the Goblin King merely dropped Bofur a moment later, sizing him up with one word: “slave.”

Ori knew everyone in the company could see the fear clearly in his eyes as the goblin wobbled in front of him, eyes crinkling at the corners in laughter. “Seems you’re trying to be entertaining before the games even begin, dwarf. Certainly you'll make good sport in the pit now won't you?" Ori shrank back the moment the Great Goblin passed him by, happy that he hadn't felt the need to pick him up. Casting a wary glance to the side, Ori wished he knew what the others were thinking; was this really going to happen to them? Why wasn't Thorin saying anything? The Goblin King seemed to be enjoying his fun, even if the company did not agree. When Bofur heard the Great Goblin deciding to put his brother and cousin to death, the normally cheerful toymaker nearly broke through the grip the goblins had on him. Dwalin joined Ori as entertainment; Dori was to be set free, Nori and Gloin joined Bofur as slaves. According to the Great Goblin, at least, and Ori desperately hoped none of this came to pass.

“And what of this one, Thorin Oakenshield?” Each step the Goblin King took reverberated through the floor as he came to stand in front of Kili. The dark-haired archer had not moved, but Ori had a feeling that part of that came from the tight grip the goblins had on him. “Does he make good sport? He must.” Several goblins latched onto Kili’s arms to keep him in place, a giant hand closing over the scout’s chin as the Great Goblin appraised him as one would chattel. “Perhaps you’ll make good sport in the fighting pit. But I doubt it.”

The company collectively breathed out when the Great Goblin released their archer. Kili jerked out of the grip on his arms, but the goblins had no interest in holding him once their king had had his fill and moved on. Thorin, to his credit, had not moved either, but he leveled a single glance at his younger nephew, and Ori watched him – imperceptible to the goblins – nod once, before the Goblin King stole Thorin’s attention yet again.

Fili had remained still at Thorin’s side, breathing carefully slow and steady, but the Goblin King focused on them one by one; he could not possibly hope to escape notice.

“Well, it seems we’ve left one more place open for this one to join those two in death." The Great Goblin waved a hand towards Bombur and Bifur. "You’ve agreed with me so far, Thorin Oakenshield. So what of this one; shall he die too?” When the heir of Durin once more said nothing, the Great Goblin, with a disarming smile, casually rested one huge hand on Fili’s right shoulder, completely encompassing the wound. Fili sucked in a breath, and the entire company seemed to breathe in sharply with him. “Still nothing to say for your company? Not one word?”

He squeezed down on Fili’s shoulder and the golden-haired dwarf grunted, swallowing the sound down. Behind them, Kili flung himself forwards, dark hair flying into his face when the goblins caught him and held him back. Next to Fili, Thorin jerked once before he could stop himself, eyes closing a moment later.

“Leave them be. They are of no interest to you.”

But it mattered not. The Great Goblin released his grip on Fili’s shoulder and the Thorin’s nephew instantly breathed out his relief, not noticing the Goblin King’s eyes once more trained on him, then on Kili again being restrained about ten paces behind, and then finally on Thorin.

“Is that it then, Thorin Oakenshield? Are they kin?”

Once again Thorin refused to answer, but the game had already changed. Ori could feel it in the way the the stale air of the caves became that much more sinister. Behind them, Kili still struggled against the goblins restraining him, a testament to the archer’s strength that it took four goblins to keep him in place. Somewhere far below, a stirring in the deep marked the slow arrival of the _Mangler_ , but Ori prayed to Mahal that it would take too long to reach them. He wasn’t even sure for what they were waiting, but surely Thorin would come up with a plan. Surely he wouldn’t let anything happen to any one of them, least of all his nephew.

"I think, Thorin Oakenshield, they are now of extreme interest to me." The Great Goblin’s laughter broke through Ori's desperate prayers to Mahal, and it seemed all of Goblintown joined in, anticipating.

Anticipating what?

"Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung! You'll be beaten and battered; from racks you'll be hung! You will die down here and never be found! Down in the deep of Goblin-Town!"

Doing a small dance as he sang the ditty, the noise rose to almost deafening; the Goblin King waved his fingers as though conducting himself, before all at once the song ended and he slammed one hammered fist down onto Fili’s shoulder.

The cheers cut off and Fili choked off a gutting cry that came mostly from surprise, the short sound echoing in the silence. Legs buckling from the force of the blow, he dropped to one knee as fiery pain raced up his spine.

If Thorin had called out, the noise was lost in his younger nephew’s shout, but he moved instinctively to help Fili, only to have the goblins swarm back around him, dragging him away from his nephew. The older scout could do little to stop it, sucking in air in an attempt to clear the pain fogging his vision and paralyzing his muscles just long enough to leave him alone in the center of the king’s platform. The other members of the company were forced to the perimeter by the goblins eager to see the action. Most of the creatures cackled and bounced, reveling at the chance for entertainment as they hadn’t had in quite some time.

Two particularly large goblins scurried forwards at their master’s bidding just as Fili pushed back to his feet and right into their grasp.

“Stop this! Leave him be!” Thorin’s voice thundered through the chatter of the goblins, easily heard above the din, and just as easily ignored.

“Nobody though you are, you have had your chance to speak on his behalf. Azog only wants you.” The Great Goblin loomed in front of the captive king, grinning. “So he shall have you – how should we say it – _un_ spoiled.” He tipped his head to the side, adding mockingly, “physically, at least.”

Shouts of anger immediately erupted from the rest of the company, all putting up a fight in an attempt to reach Fili. Though what would happen if any succeeded hadn’t crossed their minds yet. Ori wanted to help Fili, but what could he do? He couldn’t break from the goblins holding him any more than the others could. He could only watch helplessly as Fili turned his head just enough to catch Thorin’s eye. Thorin had stopped struggling and Ori felt a wave of both pride and fear at the look that passed between their leader and his nephew, before one of the goblins smashed his foot into the back of Fili’s leg, sending the flaxen-haired dwarf to his knees, both arms still gripped near his sides. The goblins pulling his arms back just enough had Fili leaning forwards in an attempt to relieve the pressure, all but forcing him to bow before the Goblin King who had moved back to his throne to watch the proceedings.

A low growl emanated from Kili’s throat and he threw his head back, catching the goblin behind him hard enough in the chin to send it sprawling unconscious, freeing one hand to send his fist smashing into a second goblin’s face, breaking for his brother the moment he freed himself. It took another six goblins to catch him, a few paces from Fili, bearing him down to his knees by the sheer weight of numbers. But Dis’s younger son lashed out, knocking against their pile of weapons in the struggle and gaining a few more precious inches before the goblins finally had him firmly in their grip. Fili’s gaze whipped over his shoulder at the commotion, eyes suddenly locking onto his brother’s, his own widening at what gazed back to him. Whatever passed between the two brothers, Ori couldn’t tell, didn’t have a chance to ponder. One hand fisted in Kili’s hair and jerked his head back, effectively holding Kili in place and breaking the contact with Fili, forcing him to look to the Great Goblin. Chest heaving, dark eyes turned almost black with fury leveled on the Goblin King.

The Great Goblin smashed his staff into the planks, enraged at being forced to rise from his entertainment. Tree-trunk feet pounded against the platform as he lumbered before the captive dwarf who refused to look away or back down.

“My my, Thorin Oakenshield, we are in for such fun before you go, aren’t we?” The Great Goblin spoke to the captive king even if he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Kili. “He’s a fighter isn’t he? Foolish, but they’re the best to break.” He crouched in close to Kili, who’s nostrils flared and he pulled back to try and breathe away from the stench emanating from the goblin. The few rotted teeth left came inches from Kili’s face as the Goblin King grinned. “Is he special then, little dwarfling? Allow me to guess. Your brother?” Dark eyes burned a hole through the Great Goblin’s head but the goblin only leaned back and bellowed in laughter at Kili’s silence. “I think we’ll save the _Mangler_ for you.” He struck a punishing blow with the butt of his staff, Kili’s head flying to the side, temporarily stunned by the blow while the Great Goblin turned away, back to his throne, calling, “boys, make sure he can see everything.”

Ori could see the others fighting, could see Thorin struggling against the goblins that kept him away from his nephews, but there may as well have been an entire army between the rest of the company and the heirs of Durin. In the moment before Kili completely regained his senses the goblins dragged him just off to the side, separated from the rest of the company, from his brother, and from Thorin. Ori could see his leader almost directly across from him, could see the way Fili’s head turned just as quickly to lock with Thorin’s before the son of Thrain stilled, not taking his eyes off of his nephew. Fili looked to his brother one more time, focused on Kili, as though willing him to snap out of it, for a moment not focused on the wound in his shoulder, or the goblins holding him down.

With a wave from their master, one goblin braced his gnarled hand against Fili’s wound, gripped his arm, and slowly pulled upwards.

Fili’s body convulsed at the pain and he bit down hard on his lip, swallowing the cry down into the back of his throat. To Ori it seemed an eternity that they held him down, an eternity that Fili couldn’t breathe through the pain, that Kili –finally clearing his head only to realize what was happening – fought against the goblins holding him back.

And then they let go.

Fili sucked in a huge gasp of air, left hand smacking into the floor as he curved over himself. He barely had a moment to look to the left, to see Thorin looking to him, refusing to look away.

Their eyes met and only just slightly, Fili nodded, even as he felt the inevitable grip on his arms again, pulling him upright.

Pain, blinding hot agony, ripped through his body as the goblins forced his injured arm further back, ripping two tiny grunts from his throat before he could stop them. Blood blossomed on his lip as he bit straight through the skin, refusing to cry out, refusing to give in. White noise rushed through his ears, drowning out the company, the screeches of glee from the goblins.

None of the company had stopped struggling; Ori knew it as well as his own struggling. He wanted to look to the others, even just to see if they were still alright, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Fili.

Each reprieve became shorter and shorter, the pain harder and harder to endure. But Fili knew he had to, had to endure, had to keep the attention away from his brother. Because the longer he held, the more time they had. He prayed in the tiny moments of lucidity within the agony that Kili would stop, wouldn’t draw attention to himself. But each time they released him Fili’s eyes fell on Thorin, a question there that Thorin always answered yes. He didn’t need to speak it. Fili could see the answer reflected back in dark eyes and it gave him just enough strength before they forced him back to his knees.

To the other side, Kili fought against the hands keeping him in place, shouting for his brother, shouting just to get Fili’s attention, to see his brother’s eyes, just once, just one time. Two more had to come to keep him in place and he struggled all the more, a caged animal surging against the bars.

When they let him go a fourth time, Fili couldn’t stop the tremors rocking through him from the pain, couldn’t stop gasping for air. Lungs burning, he only had a chance to gulp in two deep breaths before they were pulling, twisting, forcing, gripping, locking him in a painful embrace with agony. Blood spilled down his chin, lip bitten clean through and his eyes squeezed shut, a sickening rip echoing through the cave. Fili’s entire body spasmed as the wound finally tore open under the strain, blood drenching his outercoat a deep, horrifying erubescent brown.

He couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears, swore he heard Kili scream for him, but if he opened his mouth he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

The goblins shoved the young heir of Durin back down, reveling in the way he tried not to clutch his arm, left fingers instead clutching at the rough wooden planks beneath his body. Now each breath forced out a tiny, choked noise that Fili couldn’t help. Sweat beaded on his brow, one blonde braid stuck against his temple.

“Fili! _No_!” Kili’s voice, the _terror_ in Kili’s voice, suddenly, _finally_ , broke through the deafening roar of all else and slowly, so slowly, the older of the two turned his head just enough to see his brother, blonde hair hanging down into his face.

In the split second that their eyes met, everything stopped. Kili, all wide eyes and disheveled hair falling in tousled curtains around his face, froze the moment his brother’s eyes - like honey slow-drowned out of a gaping wound – met his. Breathing heavily from the force of his struggling, those dark eyes gaped in confusion when slowly, so slowly, Fili shook his head.

“Fili…” the whisper didn’t reach his brother’s ears, but Fili could see his name on his brother’s lips. For a moment blue eyes disappeared as Fili let them slide shut, sluggishly shaking his head again. A single, silent tear slipped from the corner of his eye. And when he opened them again, a suffocating desperation invaded Kili’s body at the sheer agony he saw staring back at him.

Kili did not even realize he was shaking his head, a single, whispered no falling from his lips. One tear threatened to fall, as though knowing it had a twin with the dwarf hunched forwards only five paces away.

“Please…”

But his whispered words fell upon Mahal's deaf ears and he struggled anew against the mass of hands that kept him on his knees, the hand in his hair that forced him to watch. It seemed almost slow-motion, a nightmare Kili never hoped to see with his waking eyes. Fili’s gaze finally left his own as – one more time – the goblins gripped his injured shoulder, and pulled taut.

Fili’s back arched as the agony rocked up his spine, but they kept pulling and pulling, to an angle his body could never reach. Head falling back, the older heir of Durin could no longer hold back and a steadily escalating scream finally shattered the chanting glee of the goblins as it echoed through Goblintown.

His body gave, and a sickening pop rent the air as Fili’s arm, unable to withstand the pressure, snapped from the socket. And then Fili couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe or even think as torture he had never experienced, could never have prepared for, surged through him.

And when the two goblins dropped him this time, Dis’s older son thudded to the floor, right arm hanging at a grotesque angle from his side.

Dwalin reacted first, a roar escaping from the seasoned warrior. Two goblins were thrown clear off the platform before any of the others could even react. Ori could feel tears pricking at his own eyes as, like the rest of the company, his struggles to get to their lone companion on the center of the platform began anew.

But there were simply too many of them. It took eight goblins piling onto the tattooed warrior to subdue Dwalin; Kili, caught on his knees only a few paces behind his brother, couldn’t free his arms from the six that kept him down, despite the almost inhuman cry that emanated from the archer. Even Bofur, able to lift massive tons with arms used to mining, seemed flooded with a swarm of goblins keeping him down by sheer numbers.

Fili, in the dim haze surrounding his vision, vaguely processed everything happening around him, but he couldn’t move. The paralyzing pain shot through his system in even waves. He glanced slowly to the side, blue eyes dull, when he felt something cold pressing up against his thigh. Forcing the dark edges of his vision aside, his fingers slowly grasped Kili’s dagger, unable to spare a moment to process how it must have fallen off the top of the pile and skidded within reach during his brother’s struggle to get closer. Behind him, the goblins were bearing Kili towards the ground, even as he struggled against them, eyes never leaving his older brother. He couldn’t even see Thorin beneath all the goblins keeping him down; but he knew he’d failed. The planks creaked as the _Mangler_ finally emerged from the deep and they dragged his brother right past him towards the machine.

His grip on his brother’s blade tightened.

_No. Not Kili. No._

Blurred, determined blue eyes met storm-dark desperate browns that flashed with fear for a split second as the goblins slammed Kili’s back against the wooden machine, tugging his wrists towards the manacles hanging from either side. And then Fili was surging up, knife raised, lunging at the nearest goblin holding his brother-

-before the pain exploded violently through his system and his entire world went white.


	6. Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home. If Kili isn't careful, he could lose his brother for good. But if Fili isn't careful, he might lose something far worse: the brother he knew. When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.

Stone.

 

A great, grey expanse of stone, everywhere in his vision.

 

When the world finally faded back to black, Ori found himself flat on his stomach with not a single dwarf or goblin standing.  Even the massive Goblin King lay in a heap with his minions near the Mangler. 

_The Mangler._

 

Rolling over onto his stomach, the young dwarf looked for a sign of Fili and Kili, only to pause in shock as Gandalf, staff and blade in hand, walked slowly up the pathway.  Now most were stirring, dwarf and goblin alike, and in the silence, the Grey Wizard’s voice easily picked up.

 

“Take up your arms.”

 

No goblins were within reach of Fili and Ori silently thanked Mahal for that small blessing.  A knife was lying at his side, but even as Ori saw Dwalin pushing to his feet, saw Thorin as he unearthed himself from the goblins that surrounded him, Fili hadn’t moved.

 

“Fight!”

 

When the wizard surged forward, the other members of the company finally snapped back to their senses.  Everything happened all at once.  Ori scrambled to his feet as Thorin and Dwalin leapt up first, their leader grabbing his blade from the pile in almost the same moment he was at Fili’s side.

 

The Goblin King was shouting something, the goblins rushing at them, but Gandalf kept them at bay long enough for Thorin and Dwalin to get their weapons and join in the fight.  The scribe shoved a goblin off the platform in his haste to get to the weapons pile, only to find Dori there first, snatching up his bolas and tossing his younger brother his slingshot.  And not a moment too soon, as he turned just in time to knock a goblin square between the eyes with his stone-laden sling.

 

The next moment he had a chance to look, he saw Thorin helping Fili to his feet, keeping the goblins away long enough for the blonde scout to stagger upright, immediately looking for his brother. 

 

“Fili!”  Ori followed his friend’s line of vision to Kili when the black-haired archer called for his brother – as though needing to know Fili was alright – and nearly swallowed his heart back down into his throat.  The goblins had managed to lock one of Kili’s arms into the machine before Gandalf had arrived and now – taller though Dis’s younger son was for a dwarf – the height of the _Mangler_ and the chain that kept him bound forced him onto his tip-toes in order to brace himself.  And the goblins knew they had him at a disadvantage and swarmed towards Thorin’s nephew.  Kili gripped the chain that bound him and pulled himself up higher, bracing one foot against the machine, the other connecting solidly with one goblin and sending him careening into a second.  He took out the next two in quick succession before a third broke past his defenses, gnarled foot slamming into Kili’s stomach.  With nowhere to go, their archer took the full-force of the kick, which slammed him hard enough against the wooden machine that the wood cracked, his lips parting soundlessly as all the breath rushed from his body.

 

Ori didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend’s eyes as wide as they were now, lips parted silently as he tried to gasp in air with muscles temporarily paralyzed, his free hand scrabbling against the wood to find purchase. 

 

“Kili!”

 

Thorin called for his nephew, but couldn’t get any closer, still fending off the goblins drawn to his wounded nephew; and in that moment the company all seemed to converge on the machine.  Balin pushed past Ori’s shoulder, stunning him into action just soon enough to use his slingshot on a goblin racing up from his left.  Bombur trampled down two and puffed his stomach out to let a third bounce off him and take a swan dive straight off the platform.  Bofur’s mattock took out another two making their way for Kili.  Two more sprang up in their place, climbing the _Mangler_ and the momentarily stunned young dwarf chained to it.  Hissing, one of the goblins raised its rusty blade as the other wrapped a mangled fist around the archer’s throat, pinning his head against the machine. Kili clawed desperately at the hand around his neck until the second goblin pinned it too.  Still struggling for air from the blow to his stomach, the lack of air left him unable to throw off the goblin choking him now and his back arched in a desperate attempt to relieve the suffocating hold, eyes starting to roll back in his head.

 

A flash of silver and the hand around his neck suddenly loosened; both goblins stared at him in momentary confusion before Gandalf’s staff knocked both of their severed heads from their shoulders.  Kili sucked in a gasping breath, free hand flying to his throat in the same moment that, with a growl, Gloin lunged forwards, his battle axe severing the chain that kept their archer trapped to the machine with one powerful swing.

 

Kili fell forward when the chain broke, stumbling a few steps to stay on his feet, meeting his brother halfway when Fili finally had an opening to reach him.  Their foreheads connected and, to Ori, they seemed to act in perfect unison.  Fili’s free hand caught the back of his brother’s neck, keeping him solidly in place as Kili dragged in several deep, wheezing gasps of air, hand gripping the fur of his older brother’s coat.  Ori couldn’t hear what Fili was saying to his brother over the din of battle and an advancing goblin stole his attention completely a second later.  When he finally had a chance to look back, his friends were gathering their weapons and tossing them to each other in a rhythm almost as beautiful as it could be deadly, the younger of the two quickly sheathing all of Fili’s right-hand blades for him.

 

The goblins still seemed to think Fili and Kili would be easier to take down, as quite a few went for the brothers, but most didn’t get far with the company close.  Ori still pushed to their side quickly, so that when Kili whirled around a moment later, he found a stunned goblin staring at him in confusion, knife raised to strike.  But Ori had already dealt him a hefty whack and the goblin toppled over senseless.  Kili flashed him the faintest of grateful smiles, before focusing on his brother once more.

 

“Ori!” He looked up to find Dori motioning them forwards, the rest of the company already fleeing from the King’s platform, following Gandalf.

 

Kili pushed Ori and Fili ahead of him, the three youngest in the company fighting any goblins that attempted to separate them from the others.  The quarters were too close for the archer to even think of drawing his bow, but Kili gave no quarter, face set in a grim line as in quick succession he kicked one into the deep, gutted another, and whirled with the warm blood of the second still dripping off his blade to behead a third.

 

Fili, war hammer in hand, tried to keep close to the wall where he could, allowing the stone to act as a shield against any attacks that may come from his right.  In the open spaces, Kili seamlessly took a place at his brother’s right side, just in case.  The older scout wielded his war hammer with deadly efficiency, even without the use of his right hand.  Yet every so often Ori would catch a glimpse of his face, lips pressed tightly shut, features drawn in an attempt to push aside the pain for now.

 

Stone walkways turned into wooden bridges, then wooden paths that would hug the stone until the next bridge.  Ori hoped Gandalf knew where he was going, because the labyrinth of passages and tunnels already had him hopelessly confused.  But he blindly followed, every so often catching a glimpse of Nori, just a few in front of him.

 

“Cut the ropes!”  Thorin’s sharp order echoed back and Ori looked up just in time to see a horde of goblins swinging in from above.  Dwalin shoved him ahead and smashed Gripper into the rope holding the plank-way above them.

_Snap. Snap. Crack._

 

The walkway creaked and toppled sideways, catching the swinging goblins and sending them all down into the deep.

 

“Move, boy!”  The tattooed warrior pushed him ahead again, and he had barely enough time to grab a broken plank and bat another goblin into the one about to go for Fili.  Both toppled in a heap and the older dwarf silenced both with one sickening slam of his war hammer.  Ori had to force himself not to look at his friend’s right arm and shoulder, dangling uselessly at a macabre angle from his side.

 

Up ahead, Bombur suddenly smashed through from the plank-way above them, completely covered in goblins that all fell off when he landed, his enormous girth padding his impact.  Ori had no idea how he’d managed to end up above them to begin with, but Kili broke what little train of thought he had by shoving him aside, blade embedded in the chest of a goblin about to run him through.  A bridge was coming up, some of their company nearly there; but a tremendous smash split the air and Kili disappeared from sight, plummeting through the rotted planks that caved beneath his feet.

 

“Kili!”  Fili’s cry for his brother followed almost immediately with a shout of pain when a goblin took advantage of his distraction and slammed into his right side.  The two toppled sideways, Fili struggling through the blinding pain to get enough space to use his hammer.  The goblin took advantage of the moment and pinned the dwarf down, hissing fiercely as it struck.  Fili brought his weapon up to block, the two locked together as Fili struggled with one arm to keep the crude, rusty blade away from his neck.  A moment later the tip of a spear protruded from the goblin’s throat, splattering the younger dwarf with blood before Bifur pulled the skewered, dead goblin off of Fili and threw it over the side, offering a hand which Fili took, allowing the toymaker to literally pull him to his feet.  He immediately turned, Kili’s name on his lips.

 

“To the bridge, lad.  Go!”  Dwalin dispatched another goblin and waved Fili and Bifur away.  The shrieks coming from around the bend told them they had precious little time.  Bifur caught Fili’s good arm and tugged him backwards, the younger dwarf staggering slightly towards the bridge.

 

Dwalin knelt at the opening in the brief moment they had, searching for the archer in the darkness.

 

“Kili!”

 

The stone had broken his fall and thankfully nothing else.  Winded for a third time, the young dwarf rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto his knees, head jerking to the right at the shrieks and pounding feet getting closer and closer just around the bend.

 

“Kili!”

 

Dwalin’s voice emanated from above; he knew he had five seconds at best.  The stone pathway he’d fallen onto ended in a dead end solid wall, where up above in the same spot the path ended as well and the bridge began.  If they caught him here he’d have nowhere to run.  Grabbing his blade and scrambling up, a small blue vial that had slipped out of his tunic in the fall caught his eye when it clinked against the stones came to rest against a crevice in the wall ten paces away.  Instinctively, he rushed for the medicine and snatched up the small vial.

 

“Kili!”

 

Pounding footsteps caught up to him from behind and a hand latched onto his bow, tugging hard.  He stumbled backwards as the bow snapped out of its holster, but whirled around and sent his blade into the goblin’s flesh before his bow had a chance to hit the floor.  He could hear fighting on the level above and sent the other three front-runners on his level into the abyss-

 

“Laddie, _now_!”

 

Kili didn’t think, grabbing his bow and thrusting it up towards the rift a few feet above his head.  Dwalin’s tattooed hand latched onto the upper limb and with one tug he had the archer halfway up.  The bow bent under Kili’s weight and he heard an alarming creak.  More goblins rounded the bend and caught sight of him hovering in the air, war calls echoing as they dashed forwards. 

_Crack_. The upper limb of his bow splintered and snapped a hand’s length from the bow nock and he threw his other arm up instinctively, falling a few precious inches before Dwalin’s fist caught around the manacle still attached to his right wrist.  With a low growl, the weapons-master pulled him back up through the breach.  Kili’s eyes widened at the goblin rushing towards Dwalin’s unprotected back, but with a wild yell, Ori dealt the creature such a blow that it toppled clear over the both of them and down into the abyss.

 

Once both were on their feet, Dwalin paused just long enough to cast an approving glance at Ori that nearly made the scribe’s toes curl.

 

If they weren’t currently being chased by an entire town of goblins, at least.

 

“To the bridge, now!”  Kili, the upper bow nock attached only by the string, had no choice but to sheath it again as Dwalin ushered them towards the bridge where the rest of the company waited, immediately searching for his brother.   Fili, little more than white-faced with exertion but still standing strong, mirrored the relief he saw in Kili’s eyes nonetheless when their gazes met.

 

“Hurry!”  Some of the company already made it onto the bridge, and Dwalin cut the rope with his axe.  The unfinished bridge swung free, swinging across the gap and trapping the goblins chasing them against the edge, offering them the smallest of reprieves.  As it met the other side, Ori saw Balin, Oin, and his brother Dori jump to the other side before the bridge was swinging back the other way.  Thorin hefted his blade, jaw set and gaze leveled against the horde of goblins on the other side waiting for that inevitable moment when the bridge met their side.

 

“Hold fast!”

 

Ori heard Fili take a deep breath before they were boarded, fighting the enemy on the swaying platform as the other side loomed up ahead.  He and Kili leapt across at Thorin’s command, immediately turning to watch for the others.  The son of Thrain dispatched one and, now free from the fighting, followed Dwalin across.  Ori nearly had to hold Kili back when he realized Fili hadn’t followed immediately, had just sent the goblin he was fighting off the bridge.  More were rushing towards him on the other end of the bridge.  The hanging section was already swinging back and both Thorin and Kili stood at the edge, prepared to jump back onto it. 

 

If the bridge made it to the other side with Fili still on it, they wouldn’t get him back.  Kili jerked out of Ori’s grip on his arm and pushed to the edge, roaring out his brother’s name almost in anger, his bruised throat making the word sound even deeper.

 

“Fili!”

 

The blonde dwarf looked up at his brother’s call, met his brother’s eyes, and leapt across the widening space, left blade swinging out and severing the rope mid-jump.  He landed on the other side just barely, caught by Kili and Ori, who steadied him.  Behind him, the remains of the bridge fell into the deep, trapping most of the goblins chasing them on the other side.  For a single, bright moment, they had a chance to breathe and Kili offered his brother a faintly-admiring glance, despite the ill-disguised worry and something altogether darker, that was slowly fading in his eyes.  For a moment he looked as though he were about to say something, but instead he pressed his lips tightly together and gave his brother a single nod.  Ori thought he saw Fili’s brows curve in confusion, but suddenly they were running again, Gandalf ever in the lead as soon enough the goblins found them once again.

 

Kili kept always in front of his brother now, and the path twisted and turned, descended to the bottom of a set of stairs that leveled out into a bridge.  A sharp left, veering right, the path seemed endless and Ori quickly lost track, every so often looking up, hoping to see his brothers, making sure they were alright.  Kili certainly gave him plenty of chances, as the archer, blade in hand, dispatched of goblin after goblin so efficiently that none came near Fili or Ori.  The young scribe standing right behind his friends could only watch with no small amount of astonishment as the archer’s blade became a deeper and deeper blood red.

 

Ori wished they could be out of these caves, wished that the world, for all its terror, would stop flying so fast before his eyes that he barely had time to process it.  He nearly ran into Fili’s back when the older dwarf stopped short of his brother, who had ducked behind the stone, an arrow whizzing past his cheek.  Two more followed in quick succession and Ori felt the warning welling up in his throat, but Kili threw up his blade, both deflecting off the metal.  He grabbed the ladder propped against the stone next to them and pulled it free, two more arrows missing the archer by inches, instead embedding in the wood of the ladder.  With a growl, he hefted it up and let it fall over the heads of the goblins running across the bridge towards them.

 

The goblins, caught mid-run, jerked from the sudden collar latched around their necks, run backwards by the force of Kili’s shove.  One by one they lost their footing and tumbled off the side, the last creature taking the ladder with it as Kili let it drop carelessly into the deep.  Ori barely had a chance to catch his breath before they were at another bridge, before they were caught, too many goblins on the other side of the bridge, filling the path.  More goblins raced up the path behind them.  The Goblin King broke through onto the far end of the bridge, knocking Gandalf and Gloin back.  Dori and Nori were just up ahead; too close; he couldn’t bear to see anything happen to his brothers. 

 

But then Gandalf’s blade was flashing, slicing through the skin of the Great Goblin and the Goblin King fell, thudding hard into the wooden bridge they stood on.  The planks behind him creaked, shook, knocked them a few steps off balance, cracked, then broke.

 

They were falling.

 

Ori vaguely remembered feeling the same gut-wrenching plummet not too long ago and it was all he could do to grab onto some part of the wood as the remnants of the bridge hit the sloping dirt and stone and slid further down, down, down, ever down, into the deep, wedging beneath two cliff faces that sheared off the edges as they tapered down, slowing their pace until they dropped the last final feet, landing in a pile of barely recognizable bridge, dust, and dwarves.

 

For a few spare moments, no one said anything, taking the chance to breathe and find their hearts, most of which had flown straight out of their mouths and were floating somewhere up above them.  Bofur, who landed on his stomach near the top and towards the center, pushed up onto the palms of his hands and looked around, left, right, floppy hat somehow still on his head, and breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Well, that could have been worse.”

 

Ori quite wanted to agree with him, seeing as he’d landed with two planks criss-crossing each other that kept the bridge from completely collapsing upon him, but no one had a chance to respond to the miner, to tell him not to tempt fate, before the bulbous carcass of the Goblin King slammed down atop them, easily heavier than the bridge and the company combined.  Somewhere in the groans was a gasp, little more than a choke, and most of the dwarves slowly tried to pry themselves out from between the beams.

 

“Ye’ve got ta be jokin’!” Dwalin growled out as he slowly lifted a plank off of himself and dropped free.

 

Ori wiggled his way to the edge and all but rolled out, just as Kili’s voice rang out from somewhere up above.

 

“Gandalf!”

 

Ori immediately looked up, blanching when he saw what seemed to be the entire population of Goblintown swarming down into the deep.  He couldn’t count how many there were, but they seemed like a horde of spiders, neverending.

 

“Only one thing will save us now.  Daylight.  Quickly, now!”  Gandalf motioned for them to rise and Ori caught sight of Dwalin helping Nori out and up and immediately clambered down over the beams to get to his brother’s side.

 

“Nori!” Ori dashed forwards and stood in front of his older brother, looking him over quickly.  “Nori, you’re alright?”  He wished he didn’t sound quite so breathless with worry, but when Nori straightened and thanked Dwalin for the help, standing on his own, Ori took a deep breath.  Now was not the time to think how happy he was to have his brothers with him on this quest.  Because here, in these moments, he always knew where Nori was, where Dori was.  Nori couldn’t leave for weeks, couldn’t come home late at night and try to sneak into the room, couldn’t have a whispered argument with Dori in the kitchen that they thought Ori couldn’t hear.

 

“Peace, brother.”  If Ori were not so used to his brother’s soft voice, he would not have been able to hear Nori’s response over the shrieks of the goblins coming ever closer.

 

“Fili!  Fili!”  Kili’s cry alerted both of them and they turned to see Kili forcefully searching through the rubble, trying to find the injured scout, who had yet to answer his brother.

 

“Over here!”  Dori, standing near the bottom right, turned to face Kili and Thorin just long enough before he crouched again, placing a hand on Fili’s good shoulder where the dwarf lay half-hidden by the broken beams.  Thorin, still being helped out by Balin and Bifur, could only watch as Kili and Dwalin rushed to Fili’s side, the weapons-master grabbing the wood and heaving the bridge up and off of Fili with a growl.  Dori and Kili grabbed Fili and tugged him, Dwalin dropping the rubble and sending up another cloud of dust.  Kili dropped at his brother’s side, leaning over him, gripping onto his good shoulder. 

 

“Fili.  Fili, can you stand?  We have to go.  We’re almost there.”

 

Kili’s brother had turned a shade of green, hair matted down to his forehead, now slick with sweat, all the blood completely drained from his face.  Half-lidded, dazed blue eyes lolled uncomprehendingly, as though trying to focus but unable to do so.  Kili caught his brother’s hand, trying again.

 

“Fili?”

 

Dark eyes and a face framed by disheveled black strands hovered above him, spinning slowly in his vision.  He heard nothing in those few moments, but the black void of silence.  Those lips moved, his vision blurring out of focus and then back into focus with the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears, heartbeat a fast _thud_ against the vault of his ribs.  He tried to speak, couldn’t hear his own voice.

_Thorin?_

 

Dark brows furrowed down a moment later, something unreadable in those obsidian eyes he knew so well.  Slender, dexterous fingers pushed the hair out of his eyes, cupped his jaw, tried to shake him awake.  But he was already awake, wasn’t he?

 

“N-…t’s m-… Fi-...  …-li, can y-… -r me? We h-… -o go.  Fi-!”  Slowly the pain began to creep back with the sound, the rushing of his blood replaced by the shrieks of goblins, of the hollow toppling of broken planks.  “ _Khâzash_!”The single word rocked through his senses and lodged deeper than any arrow could ever go.  He blinked hard, blue eyes finally focusing on Kili’s terrified face leaning over him.  All the pain his momentarily stunned body was keeping at bay surged back through his veins and he arched in agony, a small cry spilling past his lips.

 

“We have no time!  We have to go now!”Thorin took one look at his nephew, for a moment the pain evident in his eyes before he nodded to his younger nephew. 

 

Kili set his jaw and reached for his brother, manhandling him as carefully as possible into a sitting position and catching Fili’s good arm over his shoulder.  Ori raced forwards to grab Fili’s war hammer, surprised by the weight, but knowing Fili wouldn’t want it left behind.  Whatever he kept whispering to his brother, Ori couldn’t hear, the shrieks of the goblins too loud once again.  Dis’s older son seemed dead weight against his brother, still struggling to regain himself from the pain keeping his senses locked away.  But Kili forced him to move, Thorin close to his nephews.  Ori stayed close too, casting one last look towards the cliff face; the goblins were nearly upon them.  They ran.  Fili’s breathing became more and more ragged.

 

“Quickly!”  Gandalf motioned with his staff and the company once more took off, though this time, to Ori’s relief, the path sloped steadily upwards.

 

And up ahead he could see daylight shining into the tunnel.


	7. A Path to Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home. When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is finally here. I apologize for the long wait, as life has been more than crazy. I wanted to take this moment and dedicate this chapter to lenore_writing. She's going through some hard times right now and I hope this will bring a smile to her face. Everyone reading this, if you could send a small prayer to whatever god you believe in for her, I would be eternally grateful. Darling, this is for you.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Also, anyone looking for an update on Moments That Define Us, I cannot promise there will be one. I'm trying, but after all the work I put into it, and it's lackluster reception, I find it really hard to continue. But I'm trying, I really am.

Brilliant sunlight blinded Ori the moment he burst from the goblin tunnel, nearly tripping over himself as the rocky ground – scattered with sparse tufts of grass – immediately sloped downwards.  The angle only added to his momentum, the heavy weight of Fili’s war hammer drawing him ever onwards, ever downwards, until all he could do was focus on not falling, focus on Gloin’s broad back right in front of him, and ever further up ahead, Gandalf’s tall, willowy figure.

 

The rocky ground colored more and more green the further they went, dodging trees that seemed to simply spring up before them.  Barely missing a low-hanging branch, in the moment the ground seemed relatively clear, he chanced a glance back.

 

Fili and Kili were still behind him, Kili’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes dark and fixed upon the ground, Fili’s arm slung over his shoulder.  How the older dwarf was keeping up Ori wasn’t certain, because he looked-

 

Ori quickly jerked forwards again, stumbling over a stray branch that had appeared in his path.  Just up ahead, he could see Gandalf reaching a clearing – if it could be called that – dominated by a large, flat stone, half-buried in the earth at the center.  The wizard slowed once there, turning to presumably count them all to make sure no one was missing, and Ori suddenly felt a wave of immense relief that the Grey Wizard was back with them again.  Dori, already in the clearing, turned quickly to search for him, their eyes meeting with that same relief before both searched the rest of the group for Nori.  He found the familiar head of red hair only a few in front of him, just reaching the clearing, where Dori immediately moved to Nori’s side.

 

“Ori, Fili, Kili…” he heard Gandalf count him as they entered the clearing, trying to catch their breath.  Dori was instantly at his side, hand on his shoulder, but Ori shook his head to the unspoken question, turning again as Kili half-stumbled, half-carried his older brother to the rock, both nearly collapsing upon it.

 

“Where’s Bilbo?  Where is our Hobbit?” Gandalf had moved towards the two lads on the rock, but all heard his question, even if – by looking around the clearing – all realized they had no answer.

 

Half-sitting on the rock, supported by his brother, Fili didn’t look completely with them anymore, and Ori couldn’t help but remember only minutes before, how Kili had had to shout at his brother just to get him to respond, once he’d been pulled from the bridge wreckage.

 

Breathing heavily, blue eyes half-lidded, Fili swayed against the hand Kili had on his shoulder, left hand hovering before his injured shoulder as he kept his bad arm cradled against his chest.  He fell heavily against Kili’s side, the younger of the two just barely managing to sit next to Fili in time.

 

“Fili.  Fili!” Their archer paid attention to no one else, trying to get his brother to respond to him.  “Fili, stay with me.  Fili!”

 

“Oin!” Thorin’s short shout had the grey-haired dwarf pushing forwards to Fili’s side, just as Thorin stepped forwards, closer to his nephews as well.

 

“I think he managed to slip away when they first collared us,” Nori suddenly spoke up to Gandalf’s question, half of the company hanging uncomfortably around the edges while Oin, Dwalin, Thorin, Gandalf, and Kili hovered close to Thorin’s heir.

 

Blood poured steadily from Fili’s shoulder, staining the fur of his coat, clotting into blonde hair and one disheveled braid.  The others around the perimeter argued over Bilbo’s whereabouts and who ought to keep an eye on him, but the worry for Fili colored all of their voices. 

 

Kili’s calls for his brother never stopped.

 

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Thorin, staring at his nephews, finally rose to his feet, silencing everyone with the angry undertones in his voice.  “He saw his chance to escape and he took it.  He’s done nothing but think of home ever since he stepped out of his door.  We will not be seeing our Hobbit again.  He is long gone.” 

 

“No.  No, he didn’t.”  Everyone’s gaze shot up in that moment as Bilbo appeared from behind one of the trees, shock and relief mingling with the deep worry on their faces for Fili. If anyone wanted to say anything, Kili’s voice – rising slightly in urgency as he called again for his brother – had all of them immediately looking back to the two seated upon the rock. 

 

And suddenly Fili met the archer’s gaze, blue eyes clouded over in pain, but he didn’t speak.  For a moment all they could hear was his labored breathing, each inhale too fast, an agonizing catch in the back of his throat.  Ori didn’t know what Kili saw in those blue eyes, but Fili hadn’t moved and their archer was shaking his head, slowly, but to Ori, he seemed desperate.

 

“Fili-“

 

Kili, with one hand on his brother’s good shoulder, gripped tightly to Fili’s coat, fingers quickly stained red with his brother’s blood.  Fili’s eyes rolled, though Oin’s fingers came nowhere near the wound, and his breathing – wheezing gasps that to Ori seemed so similar to the ones Kili had made in Goblintown – filled the clearing.

 

“He’s losing too much blood, Thorin,” Ori could hear Oin saying as their healer shook his head.  “He’s lost too much blood already.  We need to set his shoulder.” 

 

 _We need to get him to stop gasping as though he can’t breathe_ , Ori thought, heart in his throat as he watched his friends, gripping tightly to Fili’s war hammer with both hands, the leather handle offering little comfort.  Every rasping heave Fili took struck Ori straight in the chest as though the hammer had been turned upon him.

 

“Move, lad.”  Dwalin’s stern order had Kili moving away from his brother – partially removed from Fili’s side by Dwalin’s hand on his shoulder – as the weapons master knelt down before the younger dwarf and caught Fili’s good hand, gripping tightly.  “Look at me.  Lad, _look_ at me.”  The sheer force of his words had dim blue eyes locking onto the older dwarf, even as Kili stood next to them, hands curled into fists at his sides.

 

Ori could see Dwalin’s white-knuckled grip on Fili’s hand, could see Fili returning it with the same force.  Dwalin never looked away, held Fili’s gaze as Oin tried to inspect the wound as quickly and carefully as possible.

 

“I’ll do it.”  Ori hadn’t even heard a question, but Kili’s head jerked up to stare at Thorin, the others all looking to their King as well.  Oin looked between Thorin and Fili.

 

“Are you certain, Thorin?  We have little time.”

 

Thorin’s jaw set, dark eyes hard as he looked at his nephews, Kili’s sharp stare boring holes into his uncle.  For a moment only Fili’s gasps filled the clearing.  Thorin said nothing; Oin gave a short nod and stepped back to the edge of the rock as Thorin stepped up onto the stone behind his nephew.  Fili, still trying to breathe, had his gaze locked on Dwalin, didn’t seem to notice Thorin moving behind him.

 

“Ori,” his head shot up when Oin was suddenly speaking to him, short, direct, “your scarf.”  He had no idea why Oin wanted it, but he didn’t think twice, unwrapping the multi-colored piece of cloth from around his neck and handing it to the older dwarf.  Oin moved to Fili’s uninjured side and wrapped the cloth around his left, beneath from the wound, holding the ends of the scarf like handles to keep Fili in place, prepared to brace against the pressure that Thorin was soon to put upon him.

 

Dwalin looked away from Fili long enough to scan the ground, finding a small stick at his side.   Setting it on his thigh, he reached down and with a sharp tug, ripped a piece of leather from the top of his boots, rolling it around the stick with his leg as a table.  Thorin knelt next to Fili and reached for the arm he still had cradled against his chest.  Fili didn’t look away from Dwalin, though he didn’t easily relinquish his arm into Thorin’s hold.  The tattooed warrior placed the leather wrapped stick to Fili’s lips, waiting for the younger dwarf to bite down.  His grip on Fili’s hand tightened in response to Fili’s grip and next to Ori, Kili shifted his weight from one foot to the other, loud in the silence. 

 

“Ye’re a warrior, Fili, son of Dis,” Dwalin’s gruff voice cut the silence, just as Oin nodded and Thorin gripped Fili’s arm, keeping it at a 90º angle.  He held it slowly out from Fili’s side. 

 

The blonde-haired dwarf’s breathing quickened; he didn’t look away from Dwalin as the older dwarf spoke.  Blood seeped from the wound, soaking slowly down the dark brown of his coat, staining the fur as though the animal had just been killed. 

 

“To know pain and to bear it is to be a warrior.”

 

Ori held his breath as Thorin pulled Fili’s arm away from his shoulder, slowly, slowly.  Fili’s jaw clenched around the bit in his mouth.

 

“Ye’re a dwarf of the mountains, heir to the line of Durin.  Feel this pain, feel it, channel it, know it, conquer it.”

 

Dwalin’s voice didn’t rise in volume, only in force, in intensity.  Fili’s eyes fluttered but didn’t close, his breathing harsh through the clearing as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes that he refused to let fall.  Their hands, gripped before them, seemed a mockery of a strength contest one would have in a tavern.  Ori could barely tear his gaze away, but when he did, it was to look at the archer beside him.  Kili’s hands still clenched at his sides and he couldn’t look away from his brother, as though he had to see this, felt the pain himself.

 

“Release, Fili, release.  Breathe and release.”

 

Fili’s nostrils flared as he gasped around the bit in his mouth; Thorin pulled his arm further from his body, each inch a terrible memory of what the goblins had done to him only a short while ago.  With each passing moment his back arched further, body accommodating the change in position to ease the pain.  But then he could go no further.  His eyes finally slid shut, head falling back on his shoulders as he screamed around the piece clamped between his teeth, his cry of agony echoing through the clearing and up the mountain, bouncing back down to them, as anguished as he’d been within the caves of Goblintown under their torture.  Thorin’s eyes closed, jaw clenching as he kept the pressure, until a sickening pop reverberated with Fili’s scream.   Ori flinched at the sound and beside him, Kili jerked, as though he’d just been hit.  Blood spurted from the open wound and splattered the stone and Thorin’s feet, a sickening splash they all heard against the backdrop of shattered fragments of bone, grating against one another.  As Thorin released Fili’s arm, Oin loosened his grip on the scarf, let it fall to Fili’s lap and rushed into Thorin’s place, trying to stem the bleeding and temporarily bandage the wound as quickly as possible.

 

Fili fell forwards into Dwalin and in that moment Kili darted forwards, Dwalin moving aside so, almost seamlessly, they had switched places.  The younger of the two caught his brother before he could fall from the rock, one hand burying in tangled blonde hair as Fili’s head fell against his shoulder, the bit dropping from his mouth.  Steadying Fili with a hand on his hip, Kili gripped tightly to his brother, and Ori knew he was trying to keep his breathing under control.  For a moment, Ori could see clearly the angry red bruising of goblin claws around Kili’s neck as he shifted, and the scribe couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with his breathing even now.

 

Fili’s hand, no longer caught in Dwalin’s, slowly came up between their bodies, caught on the intricate gold stitching of his brother’s outer tunic and the worn leather of his coat, clutching.  Ori could see his fingers spasming with each wave of pain that rocked through his body, each wave that he tried to hide, that he tried to overcome.  He saw Kili whisper something into his brother’s ear, but he was too far away to know what he said, and with the brothers in profile, illuminated by the sun, he couldn’t read Kili’s lips either.

 

“I can’t help him here, Thorin,” Oin’s voice broke the silence and Ori’s focus on Fili and Kili.  The rest of the company had since moved closer to the royal family at their center, though none dared to say a word.  Oin shook his head, threw aside a blood-soaked piece of cloth and quickly bound another around Fili’s shoulder as carefully as he could.  “I need bandages, supplies, his stitching is broken.  I can’t help him here.”

 

Kili’s eyes closed, as though willing himself to take a deep breath as he held his brother against him, Fili’s face hidden from view by the archer’s dark hair.  The manacle still locked around his wrist clinked against the metal clasp over Fili’s braid, but he moved not an inch from his brother’s side, not so long as he could be the shield until Fili had regained his composure.

 

“Help cannot be found here.”  Gandalf stepped forwards, stood next to Thorin before he could speak.  The heir to the throne of Erebor looked down to his nephews, Kili’s hard gaze boring through his skull and, looked to the others who were all watching him silently, waiting for orders.  Ori looked around the circle, saw Dwalin across from him, arms crossed over his chest.  Next to him, Bofur leaned against Bombur, an arm over his younger brother’s shoulder, seemed to be favoring his right leg, Bifur at his other side. 

 

All four looked to Thorin.

 

Balin’s gaze wasn’t as hard as his brother’s, but he nodded – just barely – to Thorin.  Nori stood right next to Ori, and he saw Dori on his other side.  Their packs were gone; they hadn’t escaped unscathed, and Ori knew that Thorin could see it in their eyes, the exhaustion, the worry, the determination to follow his command even now.  And as the last rays of the setting sun began to slip behind them it highlighted the mountain in a cascading wash of color, painted Fili’s blood on the stone, on his brother, on his bandages an iridescent red, reflected off the shackle chained to Kili’s wrist.

 

“We must continue on.  We cannot stop here.  It’s not safe.”

 

He leaned down to Fili’s side, placing a hand on his good shoulder.  “Fili, we must go.  Rise.”

 

Kili tensed, grip on his brother tightening, something dark flashing through his eyes as Thorin touched Fili.  He jerked enough for Thorin to let go.

 

The single howl of a wharg echoing through the mountains hand them all looking back the way they’d come.  The last rays of the sun barely peeked over the horizon and beneath them, the ground shook, a motion every one of them, tied as they were to the earth, could feel.

 

“We have no time,” Gandalf said quietly, gripping his staff tightly.  “Run!”

 

More howls reverberated all around them and Ori felt his heart fly straight up into his throat.  He looked to Fili and Kili, watched as Kili and Dwalin between them quickly pulled Fili to his feet and-

 

“Ori, run!”  Dori caught his arm and tugged him forwards, forcing him to continue down the hill with the momentum the other dwarf had already started in him.  Glancing back, he could see Bombur right at Bofur’s side, Bifur running right behind them, the miner’s lips set against the pain as he ran.  Bilbo darted around a tree to the rear and then Ori couldn’t look back anymore, had to watch where he was going as in the darkness trees and branches loomed only moments before collision.  He ducked beneath one in the nick of time with a short shout that caught in his throat.

 

Up ahead, Gloin suddenly turned to face the others, voice easily reaching back to them.

 

“It’s a cliff!”

 

“Climb!”  Gandalf didn’t even give him a chance to say more.  Behind them, the rumble in the ground became distinct footsteps, the bounding of whargs, heavier with the weight of a rider.  Distinct snarls were only a few meters behind them and Ori felt the shaking of the earth, knew how close they were.  He let out a surprised cry and suddenly gripped Fili’s hammer with both hands and launched a swing straight behind and over his head, the impact cutting off the snarl behind him with a whine of pain from the wharg.  But he didn’t stop.  Ori watched Gloin leap up to catch a branch and he followed the older dwarf to the tree, jumping up until both hands wrapped around the branches.  He wasn’t a good climber, none of them were, and yet, shoving Fili’s war hammer into his belt, he climbed as though his life depended upon it.

 

And he knew it did.

 

Arms wrapped around a branch, he held on closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer before he looked back to the others.  Bifur had just pulled himself up and his hand shot down, catching Bofur’s and hauling him up, Bombur catching the branch a moment after they were clear and somehow managing to draw his legs up to wrap around it as well, the branch creaking ominously, but it didn’t give.  At a tree further ahead, Kili and Dwalin got Fili to the base and Dwalin did the same as Bifur, leaping into the tree and reaching a hand down for Fili.  Ori couldn’t see Fili’s face in the dim light, but his hand reached up and caught Dwalin’s, the tattooed warrior hauling him up into the branches.  Kili was there a moment later, the three of them climbing, climbing, until Fili caught a branch and clung to it, unable to go further.  And Kili was there at his side, one arm wrapped around his older brother to keep him pinned to the branch.

 

A sharp tug at the tree had Ori nearly losing his balance and he looked down to see whargs at the bases, leaping up, catching the branches in their teeth, ripping them off with the weight of gravity.  Slamming into the trunks, the trees swayed under the assault and Ori could only clutch the branch and pray it would hold. 

 

He heard the snapping, the cracking all around him that came with the toppling of a tree, and yet the branches beneath him did not give.  Eyes flying open, he looked up in time to see the first tree filled with the company collide with the second, cries echoing through the branches as dwarves tree-hopped to the next tree, which gave way under the weight of the first.  And suddenly that tree came straight for theirs.  Ori braced for the impact, the jolt of the tree and then the jarring caused by the others gaining a foothold.  Both downed trees tumbled off the cliff, disappearing into the darkness.

 

“Fili, stay with me, keep awake.”

 

Ori looked down, caught sight of the brothers a few branches below his feet.  They’d somehow managed to stay together but Ori could see Fili’s face now, the moonlight reflecting off of his drawn features.  Kili kept an arm around his brother to pin him to the branches and below them, the whargs drew up in a semi-circle, stalked towards the tree, couldn’t reach to the branches where they were.  And suddenly up above was light, fire, Gandalf lighting pinecones from the tree which they launched towards the whargs.  Shying away from the flame, the dry underbrush caught fire and swept a semi-circle around the tree, a barrier from the whargs who could no longer reach the tree to do any more damage.  Ori finally drew in a deep breath of relief, but too soon.

Some of the others had even let out some laughter with the same relief that Ori felt, but it gave way to short shouts of surprise as the ominous creaking erupted from the base of the tree, slowly pulled from the ground, roots snapping, sticking up until the tree hung over the cliff and came to a jarring stop.  His foot slipped, the branch he held snapped and he cried out as that first heart-stopping moment of the plunge swept over him.  His hand shot up to reach something, anything, and connected with Dori’s arm.  He locked eyes with his brother, twin looks of terror.

“Mister Gandalf!”

Dori looked back up to the wizard but there was nothing they could do.  His feet dangling in the air, Ori slowly looked down and couldn’t see the ground, only the endless abyss that ended in darkness, deep and black and terrifying in a way that darkness had never quite been so terrifying before.

 

“Dori…” he whispered, the sheer terror reflected in his voice.  His brother looked down to him, mirrored it, but could do little bit tighten his grip on his younger brother’s hand, even as Nori looked down to the both of them from further up.  And Ori could see that same terror in Nori’s eyes as well, a fear for them, for _him_ , that he’d never thought he’d see.

 

How long could he hold?  How long could Dori hold?  One look into his brother’s eyes and he knew that Dori would never let go, not until his strength gave out.  He wasn’t a fool, he knew his brother wasn’t invincible.  None of them were.  _Mahal, save me_.

 

A strange, guttural growl came from behind the wall of fire and he opened his eyes in shock.  But he did not see Mahal.  A pale orc, heavily scarred, seated atop a white wharg, stared towards them, the firelight glinting off the metal hook that served as his arm.  He was speaking, Ori knew that, but he couldn’t understand it, not until the very end as he dragged out two words.  _Thorin…Thrain_ …

 

“Fili!  Fili, don’t!  _Khâzash_!”  Ori could feel Dori’s fingers digging into his skin and he gripped with both hands to his brother, the lifeline Dori had always given him.  From his position further up in the tree, looking straight ahead he could see his friends, see Kili clinging to his brother, trying to keep him in place, from falling out of the tree.  The cry had them all looking down, even the pale orc turned his gaze from Thorin at the sound, a wicked leer spreading across a lipless mouth.

 

The heir of Thorin fought for breath, dim blue eyes turning to look to Kili, meeting his panic-stricken gaze.

 

“I’m…still…here…” he whispered, the wind picking up just in that moment, the words drifting to Ori.  He could hear the stark torment in his older friend’s voice and his heart caught painfully in his chest, as though suddenly squeezed by a solid fist.  He couldn’t hear Kili’s answer, saw the tight grip the archer had on his brother, as tight as the one he had on Dori, the same refusal to let go. 

 

Glottal laughter came from behind the fire and the orc was speaking again, that same language Ori could not understand.  But he realized in that terrible instant that the tone had been enough, that it had gotten through to Thorin.  Stepping on the nearly horizontal trunk, Thorin silently regarded his sister-sons for a moment and then slowly stepped from the tree, each step faster and faster, until he was running, oaken shield held up, Orcrist aimed at Azog with deadly precision.

 

“Thorin!” Dwalin’s cry echoed through the area as enemies collided.  Ori could only stare as the wharg caught Thorin and his shield between his teeth, the cry of their leader as loud as Fili’s had been.  Wide hazel eyes couldn’t look away, even as most of them were shouting for Thorin now.  But they couldn’t help.  Above them, Dwalin tried to get out of the tree, only to have the branch break, swinging him down with only that branch to hold on to.

 

He could only watch as the wharg threw Thorin away, could only watch as he hit the stone with a sickening crunch, could only watch as another orc dismounted and drew his blade, Thorin trying to rise, unable to do so.

 

_Mahal, help us._

And then Bilbo was there, standing between the orc and Thorin.  And he was so small, smaller than any of them, his blade glowing blue, highlighting the determination on his features.  He cut the orc down, pointed Sting towards the pale orc, backed up closer to Thorin.  The weight of the tree shifted, drew Ori’s gaze away as Dwalin, Kili, and _Mahal’s forge_ , Fili, made it back to solid ground, fought with Gloin and Bifur to keep the orcs at bay. 

 

And then he could think of nothing else, because Dori was shouting to Gandalf and he could feel his brother slipping, realized he was holding onto the end of Gandalf’s staff now, couldn’t find purchase against the smooth wood.  He squeezed his eyes shut, held his brother’s hand, would hold even as they plummeted to their deaths.  And when the plummet began, when his heart flew up into his throat, it ended as he fell against something soft, feathers.  The shrill cry of the eagles erupted through the air and he looked up to find Dori behind him, both quickly holding on. 

 

He heard the cries of the eagles, couldn’t see the others, prayed they were alright.  He didn’t know how, but he knew Gandalf had done this.  He looked up to the horizon as the sun began to climb, peeking over the mountains and then touching against his face as the mountains fell away from them.  They’d been there all night, they’d held against the whargs all night.  He looked behind, over Dori’s shoulder, the wind rushing against his face.  He could see the other eagles, carrying the rest of the company upon their backs, save for one, who carefully held a still figure in its claws.  And Ori felt all the blood drain from his face.  Behind the eagle carrying Thorin, he could see the splash of blonde, could see Fili held up by his brother.  Fili held on as best he could, before his head fell back and he drew all the strength he still had within him, unleashing the last of his energy in a single, agonized cry.

 

“Thorin!”

 

But Thorin didn’t answer, one arm hanging limp towards the ground so far below them.  And a moment later Ori saw Fili sink back against his brother, Kili’s cry only moments behind.

 

“No!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are truly, truly appreciated. I'm not sure if anyone is still reading, but if you are, if there is one place I do not have confidence, it is in my writing. I would be truly grateful for any comments, any con-crit. Thank you so much.


	8. Halfway Out of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili have had their fair share of bumps and bruises growing up, but neither were fully prepared for what faced them on their Uncle's quest to reclaim their home. When Fili gets hurt on the journey, they find that the real danger isn't in the injury, it's in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate the next film's premiere, I am hoping to have this first part of Confidence Games finished by Thursday. With luck there will be one more chapter before then so stay tuned and keep an eye out!
> 
> Comments are thoroughly appreciated. I also truly appreciate everyone who has been waiting so patiently for this chapter. Thank you so much!

The eagles circled a high, natural pillar nestled in the mountain range and Ori could feel Dori’s hands tighten around his waist as the first eagle gently set Thorin upon the ground, flying off as Gandalf leapt off the eagle carrying him a moment later.  One by one the eagles dropped them off upon the stone.  Ori stumbled at the contact, legs shaky from the adrenaline of hanging over a cliff, only to grip the eagle tightly with his legs right after.  A hand shot out and caught his arm and he looked up, surprised to see Nori next to him, gazing at him with soft, concerned eyes.  His smile was breathless, relieved, but Dori stepped up before he could speak.  Nori let go, took a step back as Dori quickly checked their younger brother over.

“I’m alright. I’m alright, Dori,” he said quickly, causing Dori’s wandering hands to still on his shoulder.  Ori looked for Nori, but his brother had already moved off to where the others were gathered.

“Where is he?  Where is he?!” Ori was surprised to hear the intensity of Thorin’s words when he’d just a moment ago seen him unconscious or worse upon the stone.  The others were pressed hard together, Ori could barely see to the front, but he heard Thorin reprimanding Bilbo in front of the company.

“…I have never been so wrong in my life.”  Ori knew his mouth fell open in shock when Thorin was suddenly hugging their burglar!  Their leader didn’t seem to notice the others watching, gazing out across the forests before him to a single peak upon the horizon.

“Is that it?  Is that the Lonely Mountain?”  Bilbo didn’t ask anyone in particular, but it was Gandalf who responded.

“Aye, Master Hobbit.  Erebor, home of the Dwarf Lords.”

“Thorin!”

Dwalin’s voice cut through the company as easily as the weapons master could barge through a crowd.  They all turned to look, parting as Thorin strode quickly to his nephews.  Ori felt his breath catch when he saw Fili and Kili both on the ground, their archer seated with one leg bent to support his brother’s head.

“We have to get him help, Thorin,” Oin said from their leader’s side, moving to kneel next to the scouts, touching a hand to Fili’s cheek.

“He burns.”  Kili swept tangled blonde strands out of his brother’s face, surprise and something altogether darker coloring his voice.  Oin looked to the makeshift bandage over Fili’s wound, frowning deeply.  Fili’s breathing hitched when Oin’s touch came near, but he gave no other reaction.

“There is little we can do here.”  Thorin looked to the others, scanned the company before looking back to his nephews, though speaking to them all.  “We must get down from the mountain, find shelter.”

“I’ve been with you longer than intended, but now is not the time to depart.  I believe I know where help can be found.”  Gandalf scanned the horizon and looked to Thorin.  All of them could feel the urgency amongst them now.

“Dwalin.”

The weapons master needed no further bidding; he nodded and moved to Kili’s side, leaning down and pulling Fili up into his arms.  Fili, still unconscious, hardly noticed the change in position.  Ori knew that Dwalin, with his jaw set, wasn’t going to let Fili go until it was absolutely safe.

And if the situation hadn’t been so dire, he knew he might have appreciated the beauty around them much more.  What he did perceive he noticed only by necessity.

Stone steps had been carved into the rock, making the descent much easier and actually possible for Dwalin with his cargo.  Kili stayed close to the older dwarf, walking in front so he might turn every so often to see his brother.  Fili hadn’t changed.

Up ahead, Gandalf could be heard speaking to Bilbo, something about a _Carrock_ , which Ori assumed they were climbing right then.  Maneuvering until he stood next to Kili, the scribe waited a moment before saying quietly, “He’ll be alright.  They’ll take care of him.”

Kili’s lips pursed, dark eyes locked onto Thorin’s back, though he didn’t immediately speak.  Ori could almost feel the anger radiating off of his friend in alternating waves of flame and ice, something so volatile simmering just beneath the surface that he involuntarily took a step away from Thorin’s younger nephew.  If Kili noticed Ori’s reaction, he said nothing of it.

“I know he will.”

The gruff words almost startled him; he hadn’t expected Kili to speak.  Kili’s voice had a roughness around the edges that Ori assumed came from the deep, bruising welts around his neck.

Ori glanced behind at Fili, wondered what the older would say to his brother in that moment, but Fili’s eyes were closed, the blonde braids and tangled strands hanging over Dwalin’s arm as the larger dwarf held him firmly, focusing on his footing as they descended.

Once they reached the bottom, Thorin turned to the others behind who were still descending.

“We’ll rest here.  Dwalin, Oin.” He didn’t need to say more than that.  Stepping down to the suddenly lush grass, Ori looked around.  A clear stream flowed past, what appeared to be large pebbles-turned-walking-stones dropped in the center as a bridge over the water.  Just beyond, the forest began, thick and nearly impenetrable.  Turning to the others, he realized the base of the plinth had a fairly large cave, strewn with moss, carved into it.  Dwalin set Fili on one of the moss-covered ledges near the entrance, Oin, Kili, and Thorin quickly following the weapons master inside.

In the second group to reach the bottom, Bifur helped his cousin limp into the cave as well and take a seat, though both – like the others - had their attention on Fili, lying across the way.

Thorin’s heir had yet to regain consciousness.  Kili hovered near the entrance, pacing back and forth with his arms crossed over his chest.  Every now and again he would turn, look to his brother, to Thorin standing just to the side, his gaze never leaving Fili.  Ori took a step towards Kili, wanted to say something to help, but what?  He took another step, only to feel a hand touch down on his shoulder.

“Let’s get water for everyone,” Dori said quietly, motioning to the stream.  They had no supplies, had lost their packs, but some had their water-skins attached to the belt.  Ori felt for his own and followed Dori to the stream; behind them he saw Nori step up to Kili and say something quietly to him, pulling the archer from whatever dark thoughts occupied him.  Ori felt the cool water washing the dust and grime of Goblintown away.  He took a quick drink before moving to the others, passing the water about.  He handed the water to Bofur, who thanked him and immediately took a sip.  Up close, Ori could see that the miner had a rather long, deep gash in his thigh, slow blood still dripping where it had not congealed.

“Worse’n it looks, lad.”  Ori started, looked up to see Bofur watching him.  He played the wound down, but Ori could see from the paleness beneath the dirt smeared across his face that the miner needed time to recover as much as Fili did.  Bofur handed the skin to his cousin; the toymaker took a swig and then handed it back to Ori.

“What happened?” Ori finally ventured to ask, distantly knowing he should remember for when he found another book to record their travels.  Bofur rubbed a hand down his beard, still good-natured, as always.

“Standin’ on the wrong side o’ a goblin blade is all.  Wee bridge collapsin’ didn’t help much either.”  He motioned towards the others.  “Much obliged t’ye for the water, lad.  Sure the others are a mite thirsty too.”

Ori quickly realized the hint and nodded to the cousins, turning to see Dori standing with Dwalin and Thorin, both more focused on Fili than water, but Dori knew how to be insistent, even with them.  Ori couldn’t help a faint smile as his oldest brother managed to get Thorin to take a sip, but then Ori was moving to Kili’s side a moment later, surprised to find Nori still with him.  Kili had just taken a seat leaning against the wall just outside the cave, close to his brother, but not where he could see Fili.  Nori knelt at the archer’s side and Ori could see his brother’s deft fingers working at the broken manacle still locked around Kili’s wrist.  Ori knelt down and held the water out to his friend, refusing to take no for an answer.  Kili seemed to realize this, because after a moment of simply staring, he accepted the water and took a quick swallow.  A faint click echoed and the manacle fell from Kili’s wrist barely a moment later, revealing the raw skin beneath.  Kili handed the water back to Ori and nodded his thanks to Nori before rising, disappearing back into the cave.

“Nori-“

Shocked, he wanted to ask how his brother had done that so quickly, but Nori had already slipped away.  Following him to the water would be easy enough, but he heard voices inside the cave and immediately darted forwards to see what was happening.

 

* * *

 

 

Getting to Beorn’s had not been the easiest task.  They all knew there was the hope of food, drink, rest, and healing, somewhere up ahead, but with Fili still unconscious and Dwalin forced to carry him, the going had been far too slow for Ori’s liking, much less Kili’s, as he could see.  At the edge of the forest, Gandalf had halted them, insisting that they wait until the proper moment to make their presence known.  Ori could hardly believe that they would have to enter two at a time every five minutes and that had been perhaps even more frustrating.  Gandalf and Bilbo left first, taking a path that Ori hadn’t even realized was there.  They’d all agreed that getting Fili to safety took priority, though Kili despised being forced to leave his brother’s side.  Five minutes after they’d gone, Kili and Oin had stepped in, the dark-haired archer taking one last look at his brother before disappearing into the trees.

Those five minutes had seemed interminable; every eye was on Fili to make sure that he was alright for the few moments they were separated from his brother and their healer.  At a nod from Thorin, Dwalin made sure the scout was secure in his arms before he followed the same path.  Bofur and Bifur had gone next, and once all those injured had vanished into the trees, Ori could only wait anxiously until they’d all made it through.  With Dori at his side, they finally all but ran through the trees, coming upon a wide clearing with a house that loomed large above them.

He’d decided upon meeting Beorn that he would happily never get on the man’s bad side.  Ori thought a grip of those massive hands would uproot a tree.  Beorn could probably bop Smaug on the head and send him scampering away like a naughty dragonling.  At least, Ori enjoyed entertaining the thought.  More importantly, Beorn had supplied Oin with the bandages and medicinal herbs he needed to help the older of their two scouts.

“His wounds are numerous and deep, Sire,” Balin reported to Thorin and the others as he stepped away from Oin and Fili to deliver the news.  Dwalin had placed Thorin’s nephew upon the blankets laid out before the fire, one of Beorn’s massive pillows supporting his head.  Kili had helped to remove his brother’s layers a second time but now stood pacing as Oin worked steadily to cleanse and bandage his wounds.  Ori, sitting back on his heels next to Oin, held a bowl of warm water mixed with athelas which Oin dipped a bloodied cloth into every few moments, using the mixture to clean away the blood from the jagged gash the arrow wound in Fili’s shoulder had become.

It was hard not to stare at Fili; seated as close as he was, Ori could see the sweat beading upon his friend’s brow, sticking already matted blond hair against his temples.  He still had not regained consciousness since losing it upon the eagle’s back.

“He burns with fever; his body is fighting to heal such an injury.”

Ori finally tore his gaze away from Fili to look over his shoulder, watching Balin deliver the news to Thorin and the others.  Thorin, arms crossed over his chest, stood with both feet planted just before one of the windows.  Kili had been pacing but now stopped, listening just as intently to Balin’s words with the same murderous look from earlier still darkening his features.  Dwalin’s massive tattooed arms bulged when he crossed them over his chest in obvious displeasure at the news and Bofur shook his head from where he was seated, Bombur next to him, his injured leg extended before him, haphazardly bandaged and waiting for Oin’s attention after Fili had been helped.  Thorin’s expression did not change.

“How long will he need to recover enough to continue on?”

“At least a week, Thorin.”  Balin looked over his shoulder to the younger dwarf, saw Ori looking over his shoulder to all of them and Ori quickly turned back to Fili and Oin, as though he’d been caught shirking his duties.

“Our window of time is running out.”  Thorin frowned, turning to the window behind him to see the last rays of the sun setting behind the trees, bathing the sky blood orange.

“Fili is hurt.  He’s hurt and if you had done something to protect him perhaps you would not be so upset that he’s altering your elaborate and important plans, Thorin.”

Kili’s words, low, venomous, had the entire company save Fili looking to the younger scout, many with ill-disguised shock on their faces.  Ori knew he had the same look on his own.  Thorin’s gaze clouded in clear ire.

“There are fourteen members to my company, Kili.  I do not protect merely one.  It is my duty to protect as many as I possibly can.”

The dangerous tone they all detected in his voice did not stop his nephew, who responded with perhaps even more spite, a simmering caustic fury bubbling beneath the surface.

“So you would sacrifice my brother to prove something?  You would do nothing while they are _torturing_ him because mayhap they will not notice you and hurt you instead?  He’s already hurt, so if he’s hurt again at least he will still be the only one?”  Kili pointed back towards Bofur, seated with Oin at his side tending to his wound now that Fili had been tended.  “If that is your plan, then you’ve made a grave error, Thorin.”

Thorin’s shoulders straightened with barely disguised irritation; he stared down the few inches to his nephew’s furious gaze.

“If it were possible, I would gladly take all of his pain, Kili.  Fili’s sacrifice kept the attention of our enemies from the rest of us.  A true leader looks to the protection of his men.  Fili knows this.  He did not choose to be that sacrifice, and yet he did everything he could to keep all of us safe, to keep _you_ safe, even as you consistently attempted to draw the attention to yourself.”  Thorin threw up his hand before Kili could interrupt him, but Ori could see Kili’s shoulders rise as he inhaled quickly, hands curling into fists at his sides. 

“And what then, Kili?  If you’d drawn attention to yourself sooner, how much help would you be to Fili right now?  Did you not think that you would not be here to protect him if you’d been caught within that machine a moment longer?  He protected you, as he protected us all.  And you have the chance to protect him, protect us all, just as we all protect each other.”  The exiled King’s voice had become dangerously low and sharp; he leaned closer to Kili, making it harder for Ori to hear the words that passed between them.  “Every dwarf in this company is here for a reason, Kili: a reason of _my_ own and a reason of their own.  I know my reasons for your presence here, and for Fili’s.  But what is yours?  What would you die for?  What is worth your life, Kili?”

Kili’s eyes narrowed, but for all the interrupting he wanted to do, this time he had nothing to say.  The pause dragged, heavy and dark between them, but Thorin let it linger for several moments before he straightened again, placed a distance back between them.  Blue eyes shifted to the blonde scout lying upon the rugs before the fire.  Dark eyes followed.

“Did you not stop to think that perhaps to Fili, your life is worth dying for?” Thorin’s voice, still quiet, was no longer sharp but carefully-controlled, soft upon the edges now as he spoke to his younger nephew, knowing that Kili’s gaze was on his brother.  “Know what you would die for, sister-son, because until then, you do not know yourself.  And not knowing is a disadvantage to us and an advantage to our enemies.  Your half-knowledge may cost more than one life before this quest is done.  We speak no more of this.”

And when Thorin turned away to speak with Balin once more, Ori noticed that Kili’s hands were still faintly shaking, fists still clenched.

 

* * *

 

The firelight danced across Fili's hair, but lying on his side away from the glow as he was, only shadows embraced his features.  Ori could only faintly see his expression, drawn in pain even as he slept.  Silhouetted, the fire washed the white bandages around his shoulder and chest an even brighter, starker white against the gold of his skin and hair.  Supper at Beorn’s too-large table only a short while ago had been a quiet affair; Fili hadn’t woken up then and still hadn’t woken.  Ori wished he would, knew that Kili wished it too, though the younger of the scouts would never admit to it. 

Kili sat as close to his brother as he dared, one knee drawn up, the other leg curved so his ankle tucked into the space created by the bend of his other leg.  The black-haired archer had his forearm resting on his knee and Ori could see the deep frown marring Dis's younger son's face as he studied the broken bow in his hands, absently placing the two pieces of wood together, fitting them perfectly.  Sighing deeply enough that his shoulders rose and fell with the movement, Kili set the bow in his lap and rubbed a hand over his temples and eyes, his other hand dropping to cover his brother's almost subconsciously, as though to see if he'd moved at all.

Ori didn't want to interrupt, but he found that sitting just off to the side, he could offer an ear if Kili wanted it, but be far enough away in case the archer wanted the privacy.  

"He'll wake up when he's good and ready."

Ori tore his gaze away from Kili when Dori came to sit at his side, slowly, minding his joints, which Ori always found part amusing (given all the fighting and running they'd done) and part terrifying, to see any signs of age in his oldest brother.  Dori nodded to Fili, drawing Ori's gaze back to the scout.

"Of course, we all wish he would not wait quite so long."

"It's not Fili that worries me," Ori admitted, voice so quiet that the crackling of the fire almost covered some of his syllables.  Realizing how hesitant he sounded, he quickly added, "I mean, I'm worried.  But...I'm worried for Kili too."

"Kili's strong.  He'll be strong for the both of them."

"Doesn't mean he's used to this, Dori."  Ori looked over to his brother and then scanned the room, trying to find Nori.  He hadn't spent much time with his brother and yet he'd spent more time with him on this journey than ever before. "I wouldn't want to...to be without either of you right here.  Especially not right now, not out here in the wild." 

Dori seemed to know exactly who his younger brother was looking for, because he looked up himself, searching the room.  They both spotted Nori at the same time, closer than expected, hidden away in the shadows created by Beorn's large table blocking the firelight.  Still, in the dimness, the three triangles of his red hair seemed to be a fire of their own.  Nori had a clear view of the room, even if he didn't seem to be looking up, but focused instead on the small medal device he held in his hands.  Ori didn't know what it was, hadn't been able to get an answer from his brother.  Every time he thought to ask, Nori had disappeared before he could even come closer.  Watching his brother now, Ori was startled when Nori's gaze suddenly came up and locked straight on him, waited a moment, and then looked back down again.  Sighing, the scribe shifted next to his oldest brother, looking back to Kili again.  

The archer hadn't moved from Fili's side and Ori didn’t expect he would.  Ori had a close bond with Dori, but Dori was still many years older.  Fili?  Fili and Kili were but seven years apart, could not remember living without the other there.  Sometimes Ori envied them but now, watching Kili look, well, lost, all he could wish was that the older of his two friends would just wake up.

“The rest will do him good.”  Dori seemed to sense his younger brother’s thoughts.  “And when Kili sleeps, the rest will help him as well.  This journey will not be easy.  We will all suffer before it is over, Ori.  It is best to be prepared for whatever might happen.  Be there for your friends.  They will need you, even if they do not say.”

“You know I will,” Ori said quietly, watching as Kili said something to his brother, too softly for Ori to hear.  “I just wish there were more that I could do.”

“So do we all, Ori.”  Dori placed a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, squeezing gently.  “So do we all.”

And Ori wished those words were enough, but he could not help the unease steadily growing within his heart.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the Hobbit fandom and I am still working out the characters. Feedback is greatly appreciated, as this story is very quickly consuming my life.


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